


I Never Told You What I Do For a Living

by chewxonxtinfoil



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 32,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewxonxtinfoil/pseuds/chewxonxtinfoil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Ryan. Both psychotic murderers. Both arrested and thrown in prison, where they met. They both helped each other break out of prison, so now they're both on the run from the law. Now partners in crime, they continue to find new victims as they move across the country. Will their relationship progress with the more people they kill?</p><p>What happens if they get caught?</p><p>Can they run from the law forever?</p><p>Title Credit: I Never Told You What I Do For a Living - My Chemical Romance</p><p>(Odd chapters - Megan, Even Chapters - Me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We've Broken Through the Chains

"Brendon? Brendon, _god damn it_ , we don't have time for you to go through things," Ryan snapped, and I immediately looked up from the drawer I was rummaging through. He looked slightly annoyed; the expression amplified by how much more threatening he looked with blood spattered on his shirt and on his face and covering his hands. It was almost like someone had taken a can of crimson paint and thrown it at him, the way most of the liquid was around his middle; where he'd held the bleeding man down despite his screaming and thrashing and pleads for mercy.

It wasn't unusual at this point, the whole thing. At least, not to me. For Ryan, I was sure it was even more of a common routine; our whole little delightfully demented cycle.

"But you said we needed more money," I stated simply, pulling a few ten dollar bills out of a nightstand drawer. "Money, see?"

Ryan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. When he took his hand away, it left a trail of bright red across the otherwise pale white of his face.

" _Fingerprints_ , Brendon," he said, making it seem obvious. And it sort've was. "Wipe those handles off. Now. I'm done dealing with him, I just want to clean off. And hurry up, I don't want to stay here a lot longer and get caught."

I shrugged and carefully shut the drawer, nodding as I did so.

It's not that I was necessarily scared of Ryan (although I had reason to be); it was just that I'd learned that if he asked you nicely to do something, it was normally a good idea to just do it. Ryan never really liked being ignored; at least, he hadn't in the time I'd known him.

Ryan was my closest and only friend. Before I'd met him, I'd learned from the news and articles in newspapers that he wasn't just some person; some fresh-out-of-high-school child who had no future and had decided to kill a few kids who'd mocked and relentlessly tortured him in school and spend the rest of his life being cared for in a prison cell (although I knew for a fact that he'd gone after some of those people, as well). Ryan Ross was a common name across Nevada-- across the whole country, really. He was smart, and I think that's what scared people the most. He chose his victims meticulously, followed the police reports and news articles about himself so he'd know exactly where to go next.

I'd admired him ever since I'd first read about him on the front page of my dad's newspaper when I was eighteen, and so I felt it fitting to continue his work once he'd finally been caught and put in prison. The cops had been baffled as to why the murders had continued even after Ryan was put away; and it had taken them quite a while to piece everything together and eventually catch me, as well.

I don't know how Ryan and I had ended up in the same cell (or even the same jail, for that matter). But we did, and it wasn't long before we'd got to talking and eventually found our way out. Ever since then, it's been this; a partnership. And in all honesty, I've lost count of how many times we'd repeated this little fucked-up dance of ours; how many tiny pieces of victims we'd hidden away in the rotting walls of the houses they'd lived in or left in a pile for the cops to find like a cat would leave a half-eaten rabbit on a doorstep.

I finished cleaning off the handles of the drawers and picked up the few bills I'd found before hurrying into the front room of the house, where Ryan stood smiling in the sea of crimson.

"Isn't it ironic," he asked with a slight smirk on his face, "that this was the living room?"

I rolled my eyes and he laughed a little more.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't as funny as it'd sounded in my head," he admitted, shrugging and fishing his car key out of his pocket and flipping it over a few times in his hand.

"So, are you ready to leave?" he asked, finally looking up at me. I nodded.

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little as I looked at the scene we'd left. "Let's go."


	2. How Many Nights of talking in Hotel Rooms Can You Take?

On the road again. We've been driving for six hours straight. We haven't even stopped to use the bathroom, and I gotta go. Bad. Not to mention we drove straight from the murder scene and both of us are still covered in dried blood. 

"Okay Brendon. The next town we come to, we are stopping at. I'm exhausted, and I gotta piss bad." I told him. 

"Yes, walk into a public restroom, no, better yet a gas station, in the middle of the night covered in blood. That's not suspicious at all. " he retorted sarcastically. 

"Well I was planning on changing before hand Einstein." I rolled me eyes. There was a pause. 

"Sorry. I'm tired. I think we should stop and rest too." he yawned. "There's a town coming up. The dress is under the seat." 

I sighed. "Why do I always have to be the girl?" I whined. "I hate wearing that thing. And the wig is itchy." 

"Because." he said. "Your features are slightly more feminine. When I dress like the girl, I look like a cross dresser, or a really bad transvestite. You just look like an ugly girl." he said fighting back a smile. 

I glared at him. "You better watch it Urie. You might be next." I threatened half heartedly. 

"Yeah right. You wouldn't kill me. You know you wouldn't have gotten this far without me. You may be the brains of the operation, but I'm always the one that makes the first move." he said in a slightly cocky voice. 

"Hey now, who was the original one here? You were my admirer, my follower, you wanted to be like me." I informed him. 

"Well if it weren't for me, you'd still be in prison." he said. 

"You don't know that." I said. "And if we had never met, both of us would be in prison." I informed him. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get changed. I'm stopping at the next gas station." he said. 

I rolled my eyes. "What's with the bad mood all of a sudden? Mad that I'm right?" I joked. He glared at me. 

I chuckled and crawled into the backseat. 

"No peaking." I ordered. "I don't care how badly you want me. I forbid it." I teased. 

"I think someone's a little full of themselves." he said looking at me through the rearview mirror. I stuck my tongue out at him, and slid off my blood splattered shirt. You'd think I'd be smart enough to not buy, let alone wear white shirts by now. 

I removed the rest of my clothing and slipped on the blue frilly dress. I then grabbed the plastic bag that held a long brunette wig, and some simple makeup. I put on the wig, and attempted to apply the lipstick and eyeliner with only a small compact, in the backseat of a small car, going 60mph. I'm not exactly quite sure how I succeeded. 

Incase your wondering why I'm cross dressing back here, its because were wanted criminals. Duh. We can't just go waltzing into any place looking like Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross, covered in blood, and ask for a motel room key. At least not without anyone turning us in. 

"We're here." Brendon said pulling into a gas station. "Good timing too. We were almost on empty." 

I sighed. "I guess I'll go pay. Wheres the money you got from the last place?" he reached into his pocket and pulled out eighty dollars, and handed it to me. 

"Get some food too please." 

"Okay, get changed." I ordered. 

"Eye eye captain." he said pulling into a gas pump, then throwing himself into the backseat. 

I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he's one of those innocent fun loving people that everyone wants to be around. 

But instead, he's a psychotic serial killer who's wanted by the law, and my partner in crime. 

~*~  
 _  
"Get in there!" The loud voice of the guard awoke me from my solitude in my cell. Then there was the sound of a body hitting the floor, and the cell door being slammed shut. Then the prison guard marched off._

_The person sighed and picked himself up off the floor. It was pretty dark, so I couldn't see much more then a silhouette. The silhouette sat on my feet, most likely thinking the bed was empty. I immediately retracted my legs, startling the person._

_He gasped, and jumped up, hitting his head on the top bunk._

_"Shit. Ow. Mother f-"_

_"Didn't know I was getting a cell mate." I cut him off._

_"Sorry." he said. "I thought I was alone in here." he explained._

_I just sighed._

_"I guess I'll take the top bunk then." he said._

_I nodded though I doubt he could see._

_He had managed to find the latter in the dark, and climb up top._

_"I'm Brendon by the way. Brendon Urie." he said._

_I sighed. Great. He was a talker._

_"Ryan Ross." I said. There was a pause._

_"Wait." there was shuffling, and the sound of him climbing down the latter. "Ryan Ross?The Ryan Ross?"_

_"The one and only." Lies. I was in fact George Ryan Ross the third. But he didn't need to know that. "Why? You say it like I'm famous of something. Or are you afraid I'll strangle you in your sleep?" I asked with little to no interest._

_"No, it's just, I admirer your work man." he said. That's a new one. It caught my interest._

_"What are you in for?" I asked. You have to do some major shit to end up in this part of the jail. And he seemed like a nice friendly guy. I didn't know I had admirers._

_"I, uh, killed a few guys." he said._

_"Why?" I asked._

_"Because I hate homophobes. My entire life I got the shit beat out of me for being gay. I hated the people that were making my life hell. So I went after them. And it got to the point where anyone who used the word "faggot" or the phrase "That's so gay." I wanted to kill. And I usually did." he finished._

_"Hoy many's a few?" I asked._

_"Thirteen." he said nonchalantly._

_"Now. You said you admired my work. Why is that?" I asked sounding oddly professional._

_"What is this? An interview?" he asked._

_"It very well could be." I joked. In the dim light I could see a smirk appear on his face._

_"Well the Mr. Ross, you managed to go years without being caught. And what was it? 22 people? Not to mention, you were fairly creative with how you disposed of the bodies as well. I mean, dividing them up and hiding them in the walls? It's genius." he finished._

_"Why thank you." I chuckled. "You know, most people tend to find this kind of behavior cruel and sadistic._

_"Well I'm not most people." he said. "I do have one question though."_

_"And what is that?" I asked._

_"How did you choose your victims? They seemed so random. Other then the fact that they were all men…" he trailed off._

_"Well my story is fairly similar to yours actually." I started. Part of me was wondering why I was wondering why I was opening up to this complete stranger. Ryan Ross didn't have friends. But I felt an odd connection with this boy who couldn't be much younger then myself. "When I was a kid." I continued. "my father used to drink. A lot. And he beat the shit out of me. One day, I just couldn't take it anymore. I killed him. Most people would freak out after killing a person, let alone their father. Not me. It felt good. Yes I know I'm fucked in the head. You don't need to tell me._

_"I didn't start to freak out until I realized the cops would be after me. I knew I had to hide the body. The last place I figured they would look were the walls of that horrid house. I tried to make it fit, but it wouldn't in one piece…"_

_"So you cut up the pieces and spread it through out the house." he finished my sentence._

_"Exactly." I said. "Then after that, I had a neighbor who would always come home drunk and beat the shit out of his wife. I  
knew how she must have felt. So one day while she was at the store, I snuck over and sliced his throat. I had, well, have, a very low tolerance for drunks. Especially ones that beat the shot out of their family because of it." I finished my story. _

_"That's amazing." he said._

_"Not really." I smirked._

_"You know what?" he said._

_"What?" I asked humoring him._

_He leaned in close and whispered, "I think we should break out of here."_

_I looked at him like he was crazy, because it's justso easy to break out of prison._

_It's not like I knew we would succeed and become the most "dangerous" wanted team out there._

~*~

Brendon and I stood in the main office of some cheap hotel hoping to check in. 

I was in my blue frilly dress, extremely itchy wig, and uncomfortable high heals. Brendon stood, wearing a fake mullet, fake handle bar mustache, and very… redneck looking clothes. I had to use every ounce of self control I had to not burst out laughing every time I looked at him. 

The person at the front desk looked very bored. He was a tall Latino man who's name tag read "Gabriel Saporta." 

"Can I help you?" he asked in a dull voice. 

"Do you have any rooms left?" Brendon asked. 

"Did you not see the vacancy sign? Was the 'No' illuminated? No it wasn't. Of course we have rooms." he said bitterly. 

"Well there's no need to be so rude." Brendon said. "We'll take your cheapest available room please."

"He sighed before looking back and forth between Brendon and I suspiciously. Like he thought he knew something. I think I stopped breathing. You think I'd be used to it by now. 

He then opened his mouth as if to accuse us of something. 

"You know we don't approve of prostitution here." the man said.  
I exhaled in relief, as did Brendon. Then I realized I had to look offended. 

I put on my best "Oh no you didn't." face. 

"Excuse me! She is my wife! Not a prostitute! what a terrible thing to say!" I nodded in agreement. 

Brendon isn't much of (or very good of) an actor. 

"Oh really? Let me see the ring then." he ordered. I held up my hand, and showed him the very realistic looking wedding ring, that we happened to fetch from a quarter machine. 

"Can we have our room now please?" Brendon asked. 

"Yeah, sure whatever." he said. Obviously uninterested. "That'll be 96 dollars." Brendon handed him a credit card under a fake name, and got the key in return."Room 707. Check out is 9:30." he said handing us back the card. 

Brendon thanked him, and we exited the lobby. 

"That was a close one." Brendon whispered. 

"You should never be an actor." I told him. 

He snorted. "Well you make an ugly girl. And you're lucky he didn't notice the god damned smudge of blood on your cheek."

My eyes widened. "What?! Why didn't you say anything!?" I freaked out, reaching for my compact, only to realize I had left it in the car. 

"Because I didn't notice until we got inside." he said. "Here." he stopped me and grabbed my face. He then licked his thumb and gently ran it across my cheek, the entire time, staring into my eyes. It was odd. The feeling that is. Even if he did look strange in his mullet and handlebar mustache. His hand remained, grasping the side of my face for a few silent moment after that. 

"Um." I broke the silence. "I still really have to go to the bathroom."


	3. We've Got a Big Mess on Our Hands

After Ryan came out of the bathroom (which he nearly sprinted to), there was a ten minute argument that ended with Ryan telling me that, no, he wasn't going to stay in the dress, and that was final. So, eventually, I gave up and retreated to the bathroom to wash my face.

"He looks fucking awesome in that dress..." I muttered to myself angrily before turning to find a washcloth. I accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while looking around, and stopped.

"Oh, hey there. Brendon Urie, you are one fine male specimen," I laughed, putting my hands on my hips. I frowned. "Your ass is huge, though."

Shaking my head, I turned away from the mirror to look for the washcloths again, successfully finding one (and a few of those tiny shampoos and soaps, how cute) and trying to make sure there was no extra blood on my face like there'd been on Ryan's.

"You know, you don't have any clothes other than the dress, so it's that or boxers..." I pointed out, walking out of the bathroom. Ryan glared at me for a moment and then sighed.

"Well, Brendon, I guess I'll just sleep in my boxers. I'm not staying in this goddamn dress," he mumbled, sounding annoyed that I was still talking about it. "I swear to god, you're being the girl next time. You have the hips for it, anyway."

"Mmkay," I said, yawning. "Whatever. 'M tired. I'm going to bed."

Ryan rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smirk.

"Go ahead. I'll probably go to bed soon too, anyway. We have to get up and leave early tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly. I groaned.

"Why? Jesus, it's a sleazy hotel, they aren't going to barge in with a bunch of cops and be all 'Aha! We knew it was you because you slept past twelve and-"

"I don't care," Ryan said sternly, cutting me off. "I've been at this longer. We can't stay in one place for too long, Brendon. End of discussion."

I sighed and threw myself onto the bed, immediately crawling under the filthy comforter.

"Fine," I muttered, making Ryan laugh.

"And I call the right side of the bed," he added.

"You are so fucking picky, oh my god. I just want to sleep," I groaned, rolling to the left side. Ryan laughed again.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

I didn't reply, just burrowed further under the covers and fell asleep.

~•~

When I woke up the next morning, it was because Ryan was singing something quietly to himself. It was something by The Counting Crows, and I recognized the tune, so I sat there for a few minutes and listened before opening my eyes and slowly sitting up.

"Did I wake you up?" Ryan asked, immediately stopping. I shrugged.

"Yeah. But it's okay, we have to leave anyway, right?" I asked. He nodded.

"Uh...yeah. I definitely want to get outta here before one, so..."

I looked at the tiny clock on the dresser, which said 11:53AM in bright green.

"Didn't you say we were going to leave at ass-o-clock in the morning?" I asked.

Ryan shrugged.

"I figured you were right. Sleeping in isn't going to do any harm," he mumbled. "Sorry for, uh, waking you up, though."

"'S alright," I laughed. "You have a nice voice."

"Thanks," he said a little awkwardly, smiling. I nodded.

"Mhm," I replied. It was quiet for a few moments.

"So, uh, do you have any clue where my make-up is?" Ryan asked, standing up. I just shrugged, trying to refrain from letting my eyes wander across his exposed torso.

"It...might still be in the car. I know you left the-"

"Room service!" a woman suddenly chirped, barging into the room without warning. She wheeled a tiny metal cart in after her and closed the door before turning around. Her smile suddenly vanished.

"Aren't you people supposed to fucking knock?" Ryan hissed, and the woman opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unable to form a coherent thought.

"Y-You're Ryan R-Ross," she finally forced out, backing up a little. I rolled my eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," I sighed, getting out of the bed. "Seriously? This hotel is like, not even one star. But you fucking have room service. Typical. Just our luck, dear lord."

Ryan shot me a glare before beginning to walk towards the woman with his hands up.

"Listen, we're not going to hurt you..." he said calmly, inching closer to her. Her eyes widened.

"D-Don't touch me!" she shrieked. Ryan's eyes narrowed and in one swift movement, he had one hand covering her mouth and the other one holding her tightly so she couldn't thrash around too much.

"Sweetie," he cooed, "we sort've need you to stay quiet. Can't have everybody knowing where we are, you know."

The woman tried to squirm away, but Ryan held her in place and looked at me.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there?" he asked. I stared at him for a moment, then blinked.

"Do we even _have anything?_ The knife's in the car with your make up, Ry, I-"

"Whatever," he sighed, sounding annoyed. Suddenly there was a loud crunch as he snapped her head sideways, and she fell limp in his arms.

"Now what the fuck are we going to do?" I asked, and Ryan shrugged, letting the girl drop to the floor.

"What do you mean? We leave. I don't need make-up," he replied, finding the dress he'd thrown off the day before. 

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"But aren't we going to at least try to hide her?"

Ryan shook his head.

"No time. We have to go now, Brendon. Get dressed," he commanded, grabbing his wig and rushing into the bathroom. I picked some sort of breakfast pastry off the silver cart and looked it over before taking a bite and shrugging, and then started to look for my flannel.


	4. This is How We Like to Do it in The Murder Scene.

"Where are we going?" I asked when Brendon pulled into a random-ass town. 

"We're going to a costume store." he said. "We need new disguises. Especially after that last encounter. That was a close call." he explained. 

"Okay, fine. But no girl disguises this time. I don't care how convincing they are." I told him. 

"Aww, but you looked so good in the girl costume!" he whined. 

"Brendon, you're testing my patience." I said. 

"Come on, just one wig? You don't even have to wear a dress." 

"Why are you so set on me cross dressing?" I asked with a smirk on my face. It was a little strange. Not that we were ever normal… "You know, it's really hard to take you seriously when you're wearing lipstick." I said. Oh well. At least I didn't have to be the woman this time. 

"You think it's any easier for me? That mustache is hideous."

"You're the one that bought it." I reminded him. 

"Yeah, well, we're here. You can pick out your own disguise then." he said. 

"Right. Brendon?" I started. 

"Yes?" 

"Please remember not to talk. We don't need another close encounter." I told him. 

He turned to me and pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key, like the dork that he is.

~*~

Brendon's POV 

"I gotta pee." I whispered to Ryan, handing him the things I was holding. 

He sighed. "Alright. But hurry. We need to get out of here soon." he said. I was already walking towards the Mens room. 

I walked in, not realizing my mistake. 

There was a man standing by the sink washing his hands. He looked up and did a double take. 

"Um, miss? I think your in the wrong room." he said, eyes wide. 

I looked at him like he was crazy. "Well I think-" I slapped my hand over my mouth when I realized I was still dressed like a woman, in the Mens room, and not disguising my voice. 

The boys eyes widened. "Oh, um, I'm so sor-" he paused and took a closer look. 

His eyes widened even more. 

"Brendon? Brendon Urie?" he asked in shock. 

"God damn it." I cursed. I'm such an idiot. Now I'm going to have to kill him. And I don't even have Ryan to help me. He has the big knife. All I have is this stupid pocket knife. I pulled it out anyway. 

I yanked the wig off and locked the door. 

"You know kid, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You realize that right?" I said taking a few steps forward. 

He didn't back up in fear like I had expected. 

Instead he raised his eyebrows. "You mean you don't recognize me?" he asked. 

"What the f-" I cut myself off when I realized who was standing in front of me. "Spencer?" I asked. 

He nodded. I didn't recognize him with the beard. 

I didn't know what to say. 

"Still going to kill me?" he asked after a long silent pause. 

I didn't answer. He was my best friend when I was little. In fact, he was my best friend right up until the day I was arrested. I haven't seen him in years, so this sudden encounter was a shock. I was just barely registering what was going on. Everything seemed so sudden. And he was acting so calm. 

"You know I would never turn you in right?" he said after I didn't answer. 

"I don't know that." I mumbled. 

"Brendon, I would never do that to you." he continued. 

"I haven't seen you in three fucking years. How would I know that? I can't take any chances." I nearly growled, wiping off the lipstick. He probably wasn't able to take me seriously in it. 

"So you're going to kill your childhood best friend?" he asked. 

"Spencer…" 

"I've been there for your entire life. Even when you were arrested. Even when the rest of your family gave up on you. I didn't. I came and visited you in jail. I was loyal to you. But then you started refusing to see me, or even return my letters. I don't know why, and it doesn't really matter. But don't kill me. I don't deserve it." he finished. 

"I'm sorry." I mumbled. 

"Brendon, put the knife down please." he asked. 

I sighed and shoved it in my pocket. 

He smiled. "Thanks." 

"I can't let you go." I said. 

"What?" he asked, obviously confused. 

"I spared your life, but I can't just let you go. Like I said before, I can't take any chances."

He sighed and looked down. "Fair enough I suppose." he mumbled. 

~*~

Ryan's POV

I stood in an isle checking out some vests and ties when I caught a glimpse of Brendon out of the corner of my eye. My eyes widened when I saw he was dragging some guy along by the shirt. 

What the hell? 

And where is his wig? Is he insane? Someone is going to recognize him. 

I dropped the stuff and chased him out the door. 

I chased him all the way to the car, where he opened the door, shoved the guy in the backseat, and got in the drivers seat. 

"Ryan, get in. Hurry." he said. 

I climbed into the passenger seat, and just as I closed the door, he took off.

"Brendon, what the fuck is going on? What happened? Who the hell is this guy?"

"I'm Spencer." he said. I ignored him. 

Brendon remained silent. 

"Brendon!" I exclaimed. 

"It's a long story." he said. 

~*~

"Brendon, are you fucking insane!" I exclaimed waving my arms in the air. After he explained the story, I had made him pull over on the side of the road so I could get out and yell at him. I had also managed to lock "Spencer" in the trunk so he wouldn't escape. 

"Ryan, no I'm not. Listen-" 

"No Brendon, you listen. What happens if he escapes huh? What happens if he runs to the cops? What if he turns us in?! Then what Brendon? All because you were to weak to kill someone who used to be your friend?! Brendon, we have to-"

"SHUT UP!" he yelled in my face. I stopped talking just because, he'd never spoken like that to me before. Ever. He looked angry. Frustrated. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Look Ryan, he's not going to turn us in. I've known him since I was a little kid, and that's not something he would do. I had my doubts at first too. But I trust him. And you should trust me. You trust me right?" He looked at me with pleading eyes. All my anger, frustration, and worry melted. I sighed and looked down. 

"You trust me right?" he repeated. I looked up at him, defeated. 

"Yeah. I do." I admitted. "But if he-"

"He won't." he interrupted. "Can we let him out of the trunk now please?"

~*~

"Shit." Brendon randomly blurted out after a couple minutes of silence. 

I gave him an expectant look, waiting for an explanation. 

"Our reservation for out next hotel is under our fake names." he said. 

"So?" I asked, not really seeing the big deal, or the point really. 

"So? The last hotel we stayed at was under the same name." he clarified. Things then clicked into place. 

"Shit." I said. "Once they find the body, they're going to search the place. They're going to search for the people who stayed in that room." 

"They're going to follow us." he said. 

"So where are we going to stay then? That was the only place with vacancy within this vicinity. And I don't feel like driving millions of miles to the next town. I'm fucking tired." I said. 

"We could stay at my place. It's not far from here." Spencer said. 

There was a pause, while I thought about how to explain that, that was a terrible idea. 

"Well, we don't seem to have any other choices." Brendon said.

"What?" I said. 

I leaned over to whisper-yell at Brendon. "Are you crazy? We can't stay at his house! What if he calls the cops? What if he runs away? Huh? What then?" 

"I'm not going to run away. It's my house. And I told you, I'm not going to turn you in! I'm on your side!" Spencer defended himself. 

"Ryan, you're being paranoid." Brendon said.

"You're being careless!" I said. "How am I supposed to trust someone I don't know _with my life_?" I stated. 

"You may not know him, but I do. And you're supposed to trust me remember? Please trust me on this Ryan." he said giving me that same pleading look. Only this time his eyes held a hint of frustration. 

"But…" I trailed off. I sighed. "Fine. But if you fucking call the cops, and I get put on death row, I will come back and haunt your ass and kill you in your sleep." I threatened Spencer. I was serious. This was me taking a big risk. I had always been careful. I'd always had a plan. But now my life has fallen into the care of a guy who may or may not be on our side. 

I hope Brendon is right. 

I trust him. 

I kind of have to at this point.


	5. Because I've got Nowhere ot Run and Nowhere to Hide

"This is it," Spencer said as we walked into his house. Ryan looked reluctant about going inside, but the look vanished once he realized I'd noticed. He crossed his arms and followed closely behind Spencer.

"Ryan, calm down, it's fine," I pleaded quietly, even though I'm sure Spencer heard too.

Ryan just shrugged lightly and ignored me, looking at Spencer.

"Where are we sleeping?" he asked. Spencer thought for a moment.

"Follow me," he said finally, and led us down a narrow hallway. At the very end, he opened a door, revealing a room slightly smaller than the one at the hotel (but much nicer, and I was sure I didn't have to worry about getting herpes from sleeping on the bed).

"This is the spare bedroom," Spencer informed us, half-smiling. "You guys are used to sharing by now, yeah? Because the couch'll really hurt your back, and-"

"We're fine with sharing," Ryan butted in, arms still crossed and expression unreadable. Was he really that worried that Spencer was going to get us sent back to jail? I told him Spencer wouldn't, but he obviously didn't believe me. And that kind of hurt a little.

"Good," Spencer replied slowly, giving Ryan a questioning expression. There was a pause. "You don't...trust me, do you Ryan?"

Ryan pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at me a moment before looking back to Spencer.

"I have to, don't I?" he asked, sighing, and turned to begin walking into the room. Spencer glanced at me.

"He's..." I paused. "He's fine. Just give him awhile. And I swear to god, Spencer, if you actually call the c-"

"I'm not calling anyone," he promised. "Brendon, you need to believe me. As far as I know, you'd just escape again and I'd be as good as dead. Plus, you're my friend. Or...you used to be."

"We're still friends," I said quietly. "And I trust you. You get why we're edgy though, right? It isn't exactly safe to be doing this, it's a last resort."

Spencer nodded and I snuck a glance into the room, where Ryan was watching us closely.

"Well," Spencer said, drawing my attention back to him. "If you guys want anything, tell me. There's, uh, food and stuff in the fridge, so. Make yourselves at home. There might be beer, too, just put the bottles into the blue can when you're done?"

Ah, Spencer. Always a recycling freak.

"We don't drink," Ryan hissed from the bedroom. Spencer nodded slowly and looked at me for an explanation.

"We don't drink," I echoed, and Spencer simply sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get an answer.

"Alright, then. I'm going to watch TV, if that's okay with you guys..." he said, and I nodded.

"Go ahead," I replied, smirking at the fact that he asked permission. I'd almost forgotten that we were the ones in charge here.

Spencer started towards the stairs, and I made my way into the bedroom, where Ryan was now laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Ryan?" I asked. He didn't look away.

"Hm?"

"You okay? Spencer isn't going to turn us in, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not," he replied, but I could tell it wasn't the truth.

"Just relax, okay? For once, we don't have to worry about getting caught and put in jail again. Stop worrying so much. I really trust Spencer, Ryan."

Ryan sat up and looked me dead in the eye.

"I can never just not worry about getting caught, Brendon. I'm always on edge, okay? Just leave me alone until we're out of here, because even if you trust him, I'm not sure if I should," he said sternly. I shook my head.

"No."

"No?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"No, Ryan. I'm not just gonna ignore you until we leave. We're partners, okay? You're supposed to fucking trust me! If I believe that Spencer's not going to turn us in, then you need to believe it too! Have I ever once second guessed you, Ryan? Ever? No, because I fucking trust you, and I know that if you tell me something, then it's true and it isn't going to get us caught. All I'm asking is that you do the same for me, okay?" I ranted, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Is it really that much to ask?"

Ryan sighed and looked down.

"No," he mumbled quietly. "You're right, you're right."

It was silent for a few minutes, and then Ryan looked up at me.

"So, you've been friends with him since you were kids?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. We went to elementary school together. He used to help me out when the big kids took my crayons," I laughed quietly, and Ryan half-smiled.

"When did you stop talking?"

"Uh...I don't know, not too long after I got convicted and we met," I replied, shrugging. "He used to visit me in the jail, but then we planned to leave, and I didn't want anyone to think he had anything to do with it, you know? So we stopped talking."

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but a loud knock cut him off.

"What was that?" I asked, and Ryan's eyes widened.

"I don't kn-"

"Someone's here, hide!" Spencer whisper-yelled, quickly running into the room and then back out again. Ryan and I both looked across the room at the same time, to the tiny closet, and then back to each other.

"Alright, then," I said, hurrying over to the closet and sitting down inside. Ryan crawled in next to me, and I closed the door, making it almost completely dark.

"Fuck," he hissed, sighing angrily.

"What?" I whispered. He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Someone just had to show up. This always fucking happens. Can we ever fucking catch a break? Just once?" he growled, shifting his leg into another position. "And this closet is really fucking cramped. I swear, if you knee me in the balls..."

"I won't knee you in the balls," I laughed quietly, moving my arm so that I wasn't elbowing him in the side anymore. "Just ssh. I don't know how long we're going to be in here, so stop complaining about it and try to get comfortable."

He sighed and nodded, shifting a little and resting his head on my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He smirked.

"Getting comfortable."

I rolled my eyes and slouched a little, leaning against a pile of what I guessed were spare blankets.

"Whatever."


	6. The Collision of Your Kiss That Makes it Hurt

It seemed like an eternity had passed, and we were still stuck in the cramped closet.

Brendon was beginning to nod off, and I didn't want to be the only one awake. I was going to go crazy with boredom and impatience if I didn't have anyone to talk too.

"Brendon?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Hmm?" he answered in a sleepy daze.

"Don't fall asleep on me." I ordered. "I might go crazy if you do."

"Well I'm sleepy. And you are oddly comfortable. Despite your boney-ness." he mumbled.

I pretended not to take offense to the statement. "How is that? I'm practically on top of you. And I don't care. I want someone to talk to."

"Awh. Is Ryro lonely?" he said sitting up slightly and stretching with a smirk on his face.

"Shut up. I'm just bored. We must have been in here for at least an hour." I said adjusting my position.

"I think it was more like twenty minutes actually." he corrected me.

I sighed. "Whatever." I said.

"Alright, alright. What do you want to talk about?" he asked with a yawn.

"I don't know. Think of something." I said.

"Okay Mister Bossy." he said before pausing to think. "Um… have you ever been in a serious relationship?"

I stopped to think. It was an odd question, considering how long we've been partners. I guess we never really stopped and talked about our past relationships. Which is weird considering how much time we spend together.

"Not really." I answered honestly. "I was never really well liked. Especially in high school. I had a girlfriend in seventh grade that didn't last much longer then two weeks. There were a couple of random hook-ups in high school, but other then that, I tended to stay away from people." I explained.

I think he nodded. But I wasn't sure. It was pitch black in our tiny space.

"What about you?" I asked.

"Um, I had a girlfriend when I was still living with my parents. We were together for a year, but I hated her. My parents forced me to stay with her. She was really annoying and clingy, and worst of all, she was female." he said. I smirked, and I could sense the amusement in his voice.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" I asked randomly.

"Not exactly. I may have had a couple random hook-ups though. But nothing serious." he answered. "What about you? Have you ever had a boyfriend?" he asked.

I almost laughed. "Brendon Urie, are you asking me if I'm gay?" I asked.

"Maybe…"

I laughed. "I've never really given it much thought actually. I suppose if Mister Right were to come along, I wouldn't be opposed to it. I don't see that happening any time soon though. Considering I don't trust anyone."

He laughed. "And I didn't even have to say it." he mumbled.

I exhaled and leaned back against him. He was comfortable. Things went silent, and I was afraid he'd fall asleep on me again.

"Do you ever feel alone?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He exhaled.

"No." he said.

"Really?" I asked. "I mean, always on the run. Never having a family or friends to go back too?"

"No I don't. I don't feel alone." he paused. "Because I have you."

I smiled. "I feel the same way." I said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. I know that if there is one person I can depend on and trust, it's you. And I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before. I was letting my paranoia get the best of me. I really do trust you. And I feel like I can be open with you. I've never been this open with anyone in my life." I informed him.

"Thanks." he said. "That means a lot. I pretty much feel the same. You, and now Spencer I guess, are the closest things I have to family, friends, anything. But I haven't seen Spencer in years. So I suppose you rank number one." I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

I didn't respond. Instead, I let silence fill the space again. It wasn't awkward. Just comfortable.

"Would you freak out if…" he trailed off.

"If what?" I asked.

"If I kissed you." he finished. I didn't answer. Instead I turned around so I was facing him.

I inched closer and slowly brought my hand up to his face. I pulled him closer slowly until I could feel his breath on my lips.

"I don't think I would." I whispered before closing the distance. I slowly moved my lips against his. He responded immediately, kissing back, and bringing his hand up to my face, then running his fingers through my hair. The kiss wasn't lustful. It was passionate and purely innocent. Which is ironic, considering nothing about us is innocent, until we come together emotionally. Physically, were dangerous and fucked up. But emotionally, something seems to click, and nothing else matters, leaving us innocent fools, caught up in each others lips.

I don't know why I decided to kiss him. It seemed like a good idea, and the right thing to do. That, and I just wanted to. I don't know why. Why did he want to kiss me? Why not add more drama to this little fucked up dance of ours?

I suppose the attraction is there. It always has been. There's no denying it. It seems that the only question now is, why didn't it happen sooner? We're the only people we have left in the world. It only makes sense.

Also, not to go into clichés here, but he is also extremely good looking, entertaining, and sweet and gracious. (Well to me at least. I'm sure our victims would say otherwise.)

The kiss grew more passionate and less innocent as his tongue traced along my bottom lip. I opened, allowing our tongues to fight for dominance.

My hands moved from his face to his sides, and slipped beneath his shirt. My fingers traced the planes of his chest down to his bellybutton.

He shivered and smiled into the kiss.

"Your hands are cold." he whispered into the kiss.

I smirked and didn't answer. Instead, I attacked his lips once more.

His hand slid down my sides, and began to make their way under my shirt when we were interrupted.

The door opened, and Spencer stood in the doorway looking shocked, and slightly embarrassed.

"I- um, sorry!" he said closing the door again. "I was just going to say, um, she's gone. You guys can come out now. If you want I mean." he said from the other side of the door.

I looked at Brendon through the dim light our eyes had adjusted to, and we both laughed.

"Nice timing." he mumbled.

I laughed and sat up, stretching and standing up. (which was a lot more difficult then it should have been.) I opened the closet door and waltzed out, sitting on the bed. I fell straight on my back and spread out my arms, feeling the relief of actual space.

I listened to Brendon get up from his place in the closet and walk over to the bed. He stopped, standing at the foot of the bed.

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at him. He was holding his arm against his side, and looked like he was about to speak.

"Ryan?" he asked.

"Yes…?"

"What does this mean?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I feel like there is more to us the just partners in crime. Then just friends. Well there should be at least. You didn't just kiss me to spare my feelings did you?" he asked. I had to stop and think.

There was a long pause, and I could sense he was getting impatient.

"You're right. Partly at least. There is something between us, but there shouldn't be. It shouldn't be there." I mumbled.

He looked hurt by my statement. I sat up and avoided his eyes. His soft chocolate brown eyes. I didn't want to hurt him. Not in the slightest bit.

"Brendon, as much as I want to, it's just not a good idea. So far, our partnership has worked. It's worked so well we were able to break out of prison. We were able to run from the cops with few close encounters. I don't want to do anything to ruin it." I mumbled looking at the floor.

"But it won't ruin it." he mumbled.

"What happens if we break up? What happens if we loose eachother? Then what? Brendon, it just isn't a good idea."

"Then why did you kiss me?" his voice sounded hurt.

I sighed. "I don't know. I think I let my emotions get the best of me. I wasn't thinking."

He didn't respond.

"I'm sorry." I said.

He looked up at me, and he looked almost angry.

"Ryan, why can't you ever take a chance with _anything_?! You admitted that you were attracted to me. You know there's something between us. And I do to. Remember what I said about trust? You trust me! Why can't you be with me?"

I sighed. He had a point.

"Do you want to be with me?" he asked. "If we were two normal guys, hanging out at my friend Spencers house, would you kiss me right now without regret?"

The truth? Yes. Yes I would. I would kiss him and be with him forever. But things aren't like that.

"But things are different-"

"No they're not." he interrupted me. "There is no risk. You're being ridiculous." he said.

I sighed and looked down. Looks like I'm not winning this argument.

"You're right." I mumbled. I looked up at him and he looked surprised. Surprised that he actually won the argument.

"Really?" he asked.

I nodded.

"So…" he trailed off. I looked back up at him, thus time he had a goofy grin slapped across his face. "Does that mean you'll be my boyfriend?"

I laughed. "Boyfriend? How juvenile."

"Well, what would you have called it?" he asked.

I laughed again and shook my head.

He sat down next to me and grabbed my hand.

"You won't regret this, I promise." he spoke softly.

I turned my head to look at him, and he caught my lips with his own.


	7. I Don't Believe in Being Lonely

"So..."

It had taken Spencer awhile to finally work up the courage to come upstairs again, and I was trying not to laugh at how awkward he was being while Ryan glanced at the spines of the books he'd found in the closet. I didn't know why he was even bothering, though. It's not like he was going to be reading any of them. At least, not if I had any say in it.

"So what?" Ryan asked, looking at him. Spencer shrugged.

"Well, I, uh, just wanted to know if you guys wanted anything from the pizza place, because I'm ordering out. I was gonna ask the last time I came up, but..."

"Oh." I glanced over at Ryan. "Damn. When was the last time we even...hell yeah, I want pizza!"

Ryan laughed.

"Do they have fries? I haven't had fries in forever," he said, walking away from the books and throwing himself onto the bed. "Oh, and soda. I mean, I've had soda lately, but I want some. Can you order a two liter, Spencer?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Spencer replied. "Um. Yeah. I'll call, then. And you guys know you don't have to stay up here, right? I mean, you can if you want, it doesn't matter to me, I just, uh-"

"Spencer, stop being awkward," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "You were never like this way back when. Oh, and do you have video games?"

Spencer sighed.

"You didn't have a murderous boyfriend way back when," he mumbled. "And yeah, they're downstairs by the TV."

I couldn't help the smile that made its way onto my face at the word boyfriend because, yeah, Ryan was my boyfriend now.

"Brendon's a killer too, you know," Ryan pointed out.

"Hey, yeah, I can be murderous!" I pouted.

Spencer laughed a little.

"Brendon? You're like a puppy," he chuckled. I frowned.

"A rabid puppy," I muttered. "You know, foaming at the mouth, angry. Deadly, if you don't have your rabies shot. You'll see, the next time we stop somewhere."

"Yeah, yeah," Spencer said, still half-smiling. "Just do me a favor and, you know, leave me alive?"

"We'll see what we can do," Ryan laughed. I was pretty sure Spencer was a little scared of him and took it seriously, though, because he smiled nervously and mumbled something about calling the pizza guy as an excuse before leaving the room.

"Is he scared of me?" Ryan asked, glancing in my direction.

"We kidnapped him, locked him in the trunk of a car, made out in his closet, and forced him to buy us pizza," I stated. "I'm sure he expected this from me, but you, he doesn't even know. All he knows about you is that you've been on America's Most Wanted more than once, and have a violent history," I laughed. "He'll get over it, though. I think."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"I guess. Not complaining, though. I'd rather have him be scared of me than be all buddy-buddy with me. It'd make him more inclined to want to stay, and I don't want to have to kill another person that doesn't deserve it just because he won't listen to us."

My eyes widened.

"You can't kill Spencer!" I gasped. "He's giving us pizza!"

"I totally meant after the pizza," Ryan chuckled. "If he died before that, who would answer the door for the pizza guy?"

"We could always kill the pizza guy too," I laughed. "Use his blood for sauce on another pizza."

Ryan scrunched up his nose.

"I'm a lot of things, Brendon. But I'm not a cannibal."

"We wouldn't be cannibals, Ryan, we'd be vampires!" I sighed. I shook my head because honestly now, the difference between a cannibal and a vampire was more than obvious.

"Either way," Ryan said, shrugging before he stood. "Want to go downstairs?"

"I'd rather stay up here, honestly," I replied, smirking before standing up so I was almost level with him. He arched an eyebrow and took a step closer, returning my smirk.

"Oh?"

"Absolutely," I said, closing the distance in between us and pressing our lips together. He immediately responded by resting his hands on my hips.

Part of me (a large part) wondered why I hadn't asked to do this sooner because, god, I hadn't known what I was missing out on. It was sad, really, how Ryan and I had been partners for so long, and I'd never realized how perfectly we fit together until today; and how neither of us had noticed that we'd been tip-toeing around this for awhile now.

I deepened the kiss, causing Ryan to tighten his grip on my hips, and I took a step backwards, closer to the large bed in the center of the room before Ryan pulled away.

"Bren, it's been like three hours," he laughed. I rolled my eyes.

"You suck," I muttered, and he laughed again.

"I-"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Spencer?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm knocking this time, to make sure it's PG-13 before I come in," he chuckled.

"What counts as PG-13?" Ryan asked. There was a pause.

"Language that may not be suitable for children, animal violence, and brief nudity," Spencer replied.

"Oh, then by all means, come in," I laughed. The door opened, revealing an amused-looking Spencer.

"Pizza's here, if you guys are still hungry," he informed us.

"You know," Ryan pointed out, "most normal U.S. citizens, upon having two serial killers in their house, would call the cops and have them arrested, thus becoming a hero. But you, instead, offer us pizza."

"Don't complain, Ryan! Pizza!" I exclaimed, dragging him towards the door by his wrist. "Come on!"

"Yeah, seriously," Spencer laughed. "Come on. Never take pizza for granted."

Ryan rolled his eyes and complied, following us downstairs.


	8. If Home is Where the Heart is, Then We're All Just Fucked

Have you ever wondered exactly what happens after we die?

All these victims we killed, are they just dead bodies in the ground, never again to see the light of day? Or have they moved onto a different place? Is there a different place? Or are they forever bound to the earth for an eternity? Is there heaven or hell? Or are we all just fucked when we die?

This was basically the content of Ryan and mines conversation. One of the few things we disagree on: the afterlife.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Ryan said.

"It doesn't have to. We humans obviously don't know everything. Despite everything else that's happened in my past, I was still raised Mormon, and although I don't agree with the majority of the things said in the religion, this is one of those few things that just makes sense." I argued.

He gave me a strange look. "How?" he asked. "How does a living dead make sense?" he questioned.

"Because," I started. "What’s the purpose of living then? If we're just going to drop dead one day and become compost, then why not just kill ourselves now? There's got to be something else out there." I said.

"Human instinct. We'll do anything we can to survive. And its not like I value human life much anyway… obviously…" he mumbled.

"Really?" I questioned.

"Well I value my life, and I value yours obviously, but other then that, I don't really give a fuck. As long as it doesn't effect me. Selfish I know, but that's just another human instinct. We would have made it this far without it. And what about you? If you value life so much, then why are you a murderer?" he challenged.

"I value the life of people who deserve it. But there are people who I think just don't deserve to live. People like drunks and homophobes." I mumbled.

He sighed. "Brendon, I don't feel like arguing."

"Well you started it." I mumbled.

He chuckled lightly and placed his hand on my cheek, and gazed into my eyes.

"Look Bren, what happens when we die doesn't matter right now. Because we're here, and were together, and nothing can stop that. Stop us. And I think I…" he trailed off.

"You what?" I prompted.

"Never mind. It's not important. I think I have a better idea… rather then arguing that is." He said grabbing my hand and leaning closer.

"Oh, and what is that?" I smirked.

He chuckled and leaned in closer, pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his waist and deepened the kiss. I backed him up against the bed, and then we toppled over, him underneath me.

His hands traveled down to my hips when suddenly I heard a scream, which caused me to pull away.

"What was that?" I asked.

"What was what? I didn't hear anything.” he said.

I quickly climbed off of him and went to the window. I glanced out, and through the window of the next house, I could see a couple arguing. The woman was clutching her stomach in pain, and the man continuously screamed at her. I'm sure I heard the word whore.

"He's drunk." Ryan said, appearing next to me. "Look at how he's stumbling, and how he doesn't seem to have control of his body."

There was silence as the woman stormed out of the house, and the man managed to throw something at the wall breaking it.

"You know, if we kill him then we have to leave immediately. And we have to Bring Spencer with us." I said.

"I know. But we can't bring Spencer with us." he mumbled. "Not immediately at least. If the cops come and find a dead body, and Spencer is nowhere to be found, then they'll assume he's in on it too. And that would just complicate things." he explained.

"So what do you suggest we do? Let him go?" I asked.

"No, if he's trustworthy, then maybe he can stay here for a while and play innocent, then when things lighten up, we could come back for him, or he could join us where ever we are."

"I'm sure we can trust him. I feel like he's more of a partner now then a hostage." I explained. "And I know Spencer owns a place up in New York. We can probably stay there for a while." I said.

"Okay, well, I think Spencer is in the shower, so let's hurry and get this done, pack, and then go."

~*~

Ryan’s POV

The man sat quietly on his recliner, staring at the television. We had managed to break in through the window without him noticing us. I stood quietly against a wall out of his view, while Brendon quietly snuck over, crouching behind the chair.

The man still hadn’t noticed.

I began to wonder why he hadn’t moved, until I realized that he had fallen asleep. Or passed out. Either way, it makes our job easier. But what’s the fun in that?

Brendon gave me a cute mischievous grin before springing up and clasping his hand over the man’s mouth. The man woke up and immediately began thrashing until Brendon pulled out the knife and held it against his throat.

“Do you know what I hate Ryan?” he asked.

I emerged from the dark area that hid me, and the man’s eyes widened even more in fear.

“What might that be Brendon?” I asked with the same amused grin he held on his face.

“Well I hate a lot of things. But one thing I hate more then anything would have to be ugly wife beaters.”

I chuckled at the mans expression. Its always fun to play with our victims a bit before getting right down to it. Mess with their minds a little bit.

“Don’t you also like giving second chances?” I asked, standing in front of the man.

Brendon flashed me a grin before slicing the mans throat.

“Nope.” He said.

The man’s body fell limp as the blood spilled over into Brendon’s hands.

I chuckled and pulled out my own knife.

“Alright. Lets clean this up. I think we should go all freaky horror movie on this one and stick his head in the freezer.” I suggested.

“That sounds exciting.” He agreed. But we’re running out of time, so we’re going to have to be quick and just throw the rest of the limbs and his torso in the bathtub.

I laughed. Okay.

~*~

“Wait, what? You killed my neighbor! You killed Justin!?” Spencer exclaimed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Well, not really, but I don’t really know what else to say in this situation.” Brendon said.

Spencer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you can stay there. But I’m coming with you. I don’t want to be left here to deal with this by myself. I’ll just call my aunt and tell her I’m stopping by for an unexpected visit, and I’m planning on staying up in New York for a while. That way there’s no suspicions. But I’m coming nonetheless.” He explained.

I sighed. “Alright. Fine. Whatever. We should start packing.”


	9. I Don't Need To Be Reminded That This is How it Was

"Start spreading the news! I'm leaving today! I wanna be a part of it, New York, New York!" I sang, giggling a little as I threw myself onto the bed next to Ryan, who was going through some of Spencer's old clothes and deciding what he wanted to keep.

"Would you stop singing that?" Spencer asked from the other side of the room. I gasped dramatically and pranced over, taking both of his hands.

"But Spencer!" I half-laughed. "These vagabond shoes are longing to stray!"

He rolled his eyes, although I could see the hint of an amused smile on his face.

"Please let go of me," he chuckled, tearing his hands out of my grasp. "Oh my god, you're such a nerd."

"Spencer, are you honestly calling Brendon a nerd?" Ryan asked, and I looked over to see that he was holding up a sweater vest with Snoopy on the front that I assumed was Spencer's.

"SHIT, CAN I HAVE IT?" I asked excitedly.

"No," they said simultaneously. I huffed and sat down on the bed, crossing my arms and curling my lips into a pout. Ryan smiled and kissed my cheek.

"Oh stop it, it wouldn't fit you anyway," he said, turning back to the clothes and folding up a white shirt before sitting it in the suitcase Spencer had lent him.

"That's gonna get stained, you know," I pointed out. He shrugged.

"That's okay," he laughed. "I have a collection of bloodied shirts, another one won't kill me."

"Speaking of killing..." Spencer started. "How many people have you guys even killed?"

"As a team, or in total?" Ryan asked, smirking a little.

"Total," Spencer replied, sounding unsure of if he actually wanted to know or not. Ryan looked over at me and shrugged.

"I had, what, twenty one before we met up? And you had..."

"Nineteen," I finished, nodding. "Then we have to have at least fifty by now."

"Yeah, at least," he echoed, glancing back at Spencer. "Google it if you want to know that bad. I'm sure someone's kept track."

"Oh my god," Spencer groaned, sighing. "How did I end up with two murderers as friends?"

"Shut up, you loooove us, Spencer James! We make your life exciting!" I chirped, grinning.

"It's gonna get even more exciting when you get me put in jail, Brendon Boyd," he muttered. My grin vanished.

"We don't joke about jail, Spencer," I said. "The only good thing about it was the jell-o that was in cubes."

"The jell-o?" Ryan asked incredulously, cocking an eyebrow. "Out of all the things you could have thought about while we were in jail, you think about the jell-o?"

"You know what? I don't wanna talk about jail, I'm watching TV," I announced, flicking it on without further warning. My smile reappeared when I was greeted by two mugshots on the screen with a little message under them that read, _'(L) GEORGE RYAN ROSS THE THIRD AND (R) BRENDON BOYD URIE. IF SEEN, PLEASE CONTACT YOUR LOCAL POLICE. HIGHLY DANGEROUS._ '

"That's gonna be our Christmas card," Ryan laughed.

"Oh, yeah. The inside will be written in blood, too. And it'll say, _'Sorry for the death of your Uncle Sheldon, guys. Oh, and the missing arm is in the bathroom wall. Happy Holidays, XOXO, Bden and Ryry,_ " I chuckled.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but the reporters on the TV started talking first.

"The police encourage people to look out for those two," the man said, and the woman nodded.

"I heard they've killed over sixty-two people already," she chimed in. "Crazy, isn't it?"

"Sixty-two!" I cheered. "There, Spencer! Sixty-two!"

"Ssh," Ryan hissed, and the reporters continued.

"They're smart, though," the man said. "I mean, to have escaped one of the most high security prisons in the country, have everyone know your name and exactly what you look like, and to have still made it this far? You have to be a genius."

"Genius or not, they're still murderers. Killing all of those innocent people...it's sick," the woman growled, narrowing her eyes.

"Innocent? Hardly," Ryan scoffed. I glared at the TV.

"We should kill her," I suggested. "I mean, really."

"Please, no more killing for at least a little while," Spencer pleaded. I laughed, sauntering over to him and completely taking in his expression.

"We can try, Spencey-poo," I chuckled. "But you have to understand, it's sort of addictive, watching them realize all the wrong they've done only seconds before you get to see the lights leave their eyes."

"Watching their families pretend to be upset, even though they're thankful except for the stains on the carpet..." Ryan added.

"Yeah. And hiding them in the walls where you know they might never be found."

"Oh, and I like it when they beg, too," Ryan said, his eyes lighting up. "When they promise they won't tell anyone we were there, that they're sorry-"

"-that they'll never do it again, they swear-"

"-that they realize the errors of their ways..." Ryan sighed. "It's wonderful."

"You guys are really demented," Spencer mumbled, shaking his head. Ryan grinned.

"But honestly, Spencer. Don't you ever think about what it might feel like to play god?" he asked. "To hold someone's life in your hands? To decide whether they live or die with a snap of your fingers while they helplessly watch?"

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if he was trying to convince himself more than us.

"Stop it, no," he replied. "I don't. Are you done packing? Can we leave? I don't want to be here when they find Justin."

"Someone's uncomfortable," Ryan said, grinning victoriously.

"It's just messed up, okay?" Spencer sighed. "Give me time, I'll get used to it."

"Well, if you wanna leave, let's leave!" I said, smiling. "I've been ready forever. You guys are so slow."

Ryan rolled his eyes and zipped up the suitcase he was using.

"Thanks for giving me these, by the way. I was running out of shirts," Ryan said. Spencer nodded.

"No problem. Alright," he sighed. "Grab that blanket off the bed, and a few pillows. The car ride will be like three days, because god forbid you two show up in an airport; and I don't want to hear complaints about how you're uncomfortable."

"Okay, mommy," I laughed. Spencer scowled.

"Call me what you will, but you owe me a giant thanks for this," he said.

"Thanks," I beamed. "And sorry for almost killing you."

"It's okay, Brendon. I'm kinda glad you didn't, though. Being murdered is one thing. But being murdered by your gay ex-friend who is apparently a murderer now while he's dressed as a woman....was just....not the way I wanted to go out."

"You know what, it was a good disguise, alright? It wasn't even mine, it was Ryan's!"

Spencer scoffed.

"Brendon, don't lie to me. It was _totally_ yours," he laughed. "Now let's go,"


	10. Another Knife in My Hands

"You guys are lucky I have tinted windows." Spencer said as we piled into his car.

"Hey Ry, I guess this means we don't have to drive. That means we can make out in his backseat the whole time." Brendon said as he scooted over, allowing me to climb in.

I laughed. That didn't sound half bad.

"No no no no." Spencer said. "Clothes are to be kept on at all times. And I'm not driving the entire way. You guys have disguises right?"

"Yeah I guess. It's risky though. The last place we stayed, we used the same disguises and fake info, so they might recognize us." I explained.

"Let's just not run into any police officers." Brendon said.

"I like that idea." Ryan said.

Spencer sighed. "Okay, I have to stop at the gas station before we leave. Make sure you stay in the car and out of site."

"Eye eye sir." Brendon said. I smirked.

"Hey Bren, I thought we were the ones in charge." I said.

"Oh yeah." he said. "Spencer, I command that you let me and Ryan sex it up in your back seat. If you don't, we'll kill you."

I laughed. Brendon sure has a way with words.

Spencer sighed. "Somehow I doubt that Brendon. So, no. The clothes on rule is still in effect."

"You know, I'm sure hand jobs are possible with out the removal of clothing." Brendon said.

I held back a laugh.

"I think we should refrain from scarring poor Spencer and wait until he's in the shower. Then we can do it in his bed and not tell him."

Brendon laughed. "Sounds like a plan. Then we can make out on top of all his clothes on his suitcase, then sex it up in his car when he's not looking."

"You guys are horrible." Spencer said pulling into a gas station. "Stay here. I'll be right back." he said pulling up to a gas pump.

~*~

After about three minutes, Spencer walked out of the mini mart where he went to go pay, followed by a young woman who looked oddly familiar. From the looks of it, she was upset about something, and was complaining to him, and he was desperately trying to get away, but was to nice to say something along the lines of "Fuck off. Can't you see I need to go?" although I'm sure he wanted too.

"Hey, I wonder what's going on over there." I whispered to Brendon.

He looked towards Spencer and shrugged. "I dunno. Ex-girlfriend maybe?" he suggested.

"Doesn't she look familiar?" I asked, studying her more.

"Hmm. Yeah she does. Weird." he said.

"Crack open the window a bit so we can hear what they're saying. They're close enough." I said.

He nodded and cracked open the window the tiniest bit.

"But Spencer! What am I supposed to do! He's dead! And… I can't do this on my own." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry… wait. Do what on your own?" he asked.

"Spencer," she sniffed. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened.

"Sarah, I'm really sorry. I wish there was something I could do. But I'm headed to New York, I have to take care of my aunt who's sick. And I'm really sorry about Justin-"

My eyes widened.

"Brendon! That's the girl we saw getting beat up by Spencer's drunk neighbor!"

His eyes widened too. "And she's pregnant? Damn, it's like a bad soap. I wonder if Justin has an evil half brother in a coma."

"Yeah, and this chick isn't really his girlfriend, she's in fact her twin posing as her so she can get revenge." I added.

"Wow. I feel like I should feel bad for making fun of her in her situation." Brendon said with a smirk.

"Yeah well-"

"Well are you guys happy?" Spencer cut me off getting back into the car. "That was Justin's girlfriend. And she's pregnant! Now do you feel bad about it?"

"She's better off with out him." I said.

"Yeah." Brendon agreed with me. "You didn't see what we saw Spence. He was drunk and beating her. He punched her in the stomach." he explained.

"Yup. Not exactly the environment I'd want to raise a family in." I said. "Imagine how he would end up treating the kid."

Spencer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Whatever. Let's just get out of here before we run into anyone else." He said.

~*~

About six hours later, Spencer pulled into a motel.

"Guys, I'm dead tired. Let's crash here for the night." Spencer said.

"Fine with me." I said. Brendon was already asleep. "I'm sure Brendon won't mind either." I chuckled.

"Alright." Spencer parked and got out of the car. "I'm going to go check in. Please stay out of trouble while I'm gone." he said.

I smirked but didn't answer. He was already gone.

"Brendon, Brendon wake up." I said gently shaking him awake.

"Huh? Where are we?" he asked groggily. I smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Were crashing at a hotel for the night." I whispered.

He yawned and stretched. "Okay." he said. "Will you carry me?" he asked. I laughed.

"Sorry Bren. You're going to have to use your legs." I said.

He frowned. "Fine." he said. "Do you think it's safe to step outside without my disguise? There's like no one here." he asked.

"I'd take the wig just in case." I said handing it to him.

"Fine." he said as he grabbed it. He then opened the door and stepped out, then began stretching. Then suddenly his attention turned to a man standing outside his room talking, or shouting, on his cell phone.

"Ryan, listen." he said poking his head into the car.

"No Karen, I won't listen! I will not have a fucking queer as a son! Now you better knock some sense into that boy. And if you don't. I will." the man growled.

I looked at Brendon.

"Would we be able to do it quick, and clean? Because if Spence already paid, I don't want to have to check into another hotel." I said.

"Yeah. We can take him outback. We'll hide him in the dumpster or something, then leave early in the morning. That way he's no where near our room. And it's under Spencer's name anyway. No one will suspect anything." Brendon said. "I just really feel like we need to get this guy."

"Yeah, okay. Let's just hurry and get it done before Spencer gets back."

~*~

We managed to sneak up on the man, take his cell phone, and drag him to the backside of the building with no one noticing. All it took was a hand over the mouth and a knife to the throat. I held him steady as Brendon took out the big knife. I decided to let him have this one.

"You know," I said. "We really hate homophobes."

The man's eyes widened.

"Yeah, the only gay guys you should be afraid of are us." he added. I held back a laugh. That was a good one.

The man attempted to plead for mercy with my hand over his mouth.

"Sorry," Brendon said. "Maybe the big man in the sky will give you a second chance. But not us." he then sliced the man's throat, and the body fell limp in my arms.

"Okay," I said. "Now what should we do with it?" I asked.

"Look." Brendon said. "There's a big hole in the wall over there. Then we can push that dumpster in front of it."

"Well that's convenient." I said. "Come on, let's get this thing in there. I'm tired. I want to shower and go to bed." I finished.

~*~

When we finished we went back to the car to find Spencer standing outside of it, head down, with his arms crossed. When we approached, his head snapped up.

"There you fucking are!" he exclaimed. He looked around before grabbing both of us and dragging us into the hotel room. "Are you two fucking crazy!?" he exclaimed.

He paused and closed his eyes. "Please tell me that's not blood on your hands."

"This is not blood on my hands." Brendon said. I smirked.

"You guys, I'm not a money tree. I already paid for this room! Now we have to leave?" he said.

"No no, we've got it all taken care of." I started. "We took him out back where no one could see us, and hid him in a hole in the wall behind the dumpster. If we leave early there won't be any problems. And besides, I don't think anyone will be looking for him anytime soon." I explained.

"Ryan, this is a huge risk. This doesn't sound like you." Spencer said siting down on the bed.

"No it's not. Everything is taken care of, trust me." I said.

He sighed. "Can you at least sleep in your disguises or something? Just incase? I'll sleep better." Spencer said.

"Fine. Brendon, you get the dress. Make sure to dispose of your bloody shirt properly." I said.

He smirked. "Eye eye captain."


	11. We Must Run

"Why do you guys do it?"

The room was almost silent until Spencer spoke, and the question caught me off guard.

"I...uh, well, it..." I stammered, unsure of how to -or if I should- answer.

"It's complicated," Ryan replied, sighing and continuing to play with a piece of my hair.

Our room had two beds, luckily; and so the second we'd gotten cleaned up, I'd insisted that Ryan lay down on ours so that I could use him as a pillow.

So far, it was working out damn well because as I'd learned in the closet (Spencer's, not the thoretical closet), Ryan was actually really comfortable.

"I don't see how complicated it can really be," Spencer said, shrugging. "You said they weren't innocent. What did they do?"

I looked at Ryan.

"I don't see why explaining would be a big deal, since he's kinda like our partner now..." I pointed out. Ryan shrugged.

"It...I don't know," he sighed. "I've never told anyone but you."

I smiled at him.

"You've never had a partnership with anyone but me."

"I know," he laughed. "I mean, it isn't that much of a big deal." Ryan glanced over at Spencer. "I had...family issues growing up. And I guess Brendon did, too."

"You mean his mom?" Spencer asked.

"...his mom?" Ryan echoed, confused. Spencer nodded.

"You know, how his mom was a complete-"

"-ly wonderful woman who shouldn't be talked about," I cut him off, glaring. "I think Ryan meant more like how nobody really approved of-"

"Oh." Spencer's eyes widened. "He doesn't know about your lunatic mother?"

"Shut up," I mumbled.

"...what?" Ryan asked, glancing in my direction. "Your mom was a lunatic?"

"No." I frowned. "Spencer. Homophobes and drunks. We kill homophobes and drunks."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence.

"Um. Well," Spencer started, standing up, "I'm getting a shower. So..."

"Kay. We're just gonna make out on your suitcase, so take as long as you need," I laughed. Spencer rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how we were the most immature murderers he'd ever met.

Although I was pretty sure we were the only murderers he'd ever met, since he was still alive and all...

...whatever.

"So..." Ryan said, looking at me questioningly. I smiled.

"C'mere. His suitcase is lumpy, but let's seriously make out on his bed," I chuckled, standing up. Ryan shook his head.

"No, I mean so, what was Spencer talking about?"

My smile vanished.

"He...nothing. My mom wasn't a very good parent, is all. Can I kiss you now?"

"Brendon, come on. I told you about my dad years ago," Ryan said, frowning. I sighed.

"It's honestly not all that big of a deal," I said, shrugging. "After I came out to my sister, she decided to tell my dad. He told my mom, and she...wasn't happy. Although I knew she wouldn't be, which is why I didn't tell her in the first place," I half-laughed. "But Spencer's right, she kinda was a lunatic. You already know she was overly religious, so she thought I was posessed by the devil or some shit. After that, things started to get even crazier, so I just left. And I guess now she probably thinks the devil has completely taken over, and I'm a psychopathic killer whose thirst for blood will never be quenched! Not that the second part isn't true, but, you know," I concluded. Ryan stared awkwardly at me.

"...the devil?"

"Yeah. I think she threw a bible at me once."

"...a bible."

"A bible."

"Hardcover, or...?"

"Na, it was a softcover one. Still hurt, though."

"Oh."

It was silent again until out of nowhere, Ryan attacked my lips with his own. I kissed back immediately, smirking against his lips.

Things stayed like that for a few minutes; us awkwardly kissing in the middle of the hotel room; until Ryan pulled away and smiled before pushing me back onto Spencer's bed.

"Should we kill her, then?" he asked, hovering over me. It took me a minute to realize who he was talking about.

"No, this is payback enough," I laughed, leaning up to kiss him again.

"Aw, gross! You guys have your own goddamn bed, okay?" Spencer complained, throwing a dampened towel at us. Ryan let out a light laugh and walked over to our bed, throwing himself down on it and shrugging.

"Ours is lumpy."

"That's why I picked this one," Spencer chuckled. "Golden rule, boys. He who has the gold makes the rules."

"But he who has the knife," Ryan began, pointing to the knife he'd cleaned off and put on the top of our suitcase, "can slit the man with the gold's throat, and then make out on both the beds."

"At once," I added. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"One: I'm helping you, stop threatening my life, you sadistic bastards," he laughed. "And two: how the fuck does someone make out on two beds at once?"

"Magic," I replied. Spencer rolled his eyes again.

"Magic?"

"Dude, we're represented by a fucking rainbow," I laughed. "But whatever, fine. Don't believe. 'M tired. Sleep?"

"Yeah, on your bed," Spencer sighed. "Shoo!"

"You suuuuuuuuuck," I whined, sitting up. "Ryan, come bring me to the other bed."

"Why are you so dead set on me carrying you?" Ryan asked. "It isn't even that far of a walk."

"You suck too!" I complained, getting up and angrily laying down on the bed next to Ryan. He laughed.

"Only for you."

"Aw, guys, come on," Spencer groaned. "Seriously. The clothes on rule still applies in hotels!"

"Not fair! If you had a girlfriend, I'd let you guys make sexual innuendo whenever you wanted!" I muttered.

"Well, I don't, do I?"

"Spencer Smith, you are a bad friend."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he laughed, and then the lights were off.

~•~

"Wake up!" Spencer hissed. His voice was accompanied by something hitting me in the head. I groaned and opened my eyes to see what it was.

...shampoo?

"But I got a shower last night!" I whined. Spencer's scowl didn't lighten. I sat there, wondering why until I heard the sirens.

Oh shit.

"Ryan!" I yelled, thwacking him in the chest.

"Fuck, what?!" he muttered.

"Sirens!"

Ryan sat straight up.

"Wha...how?!" he asked, alarmed. I shrugged, standing up and tracking down the plaid and mustache Ryan had neglected to put on last night, even though Spencer had asked us to.

"I don't know, just get dressed!" I commanded. Ryan sprang out of bed and threw on the dress and wig with no complaints.

Hell yeah!

"Spencer, what are we gonna-"

"It's only an ambulance. The police are coming soon," Spencer said urgently, grabbing his suitcase. "Once they're here, they won't let anybody out of this hotel, because they'll need to do questioning. Whatever isn't in your suitcase, leave here. Let's go!"

Ryan nodded and grabbed the suitcase (oh, how ladylike!) and we checked out only minutes before the police arrived.

Halfway down the road, the music on the radio died out, only to be replaced by a male voice.

_This is an emergency broadcast. A man was murdered earlier today at the hotel on the corner of Fourth and Fremont street. It is believed to be the work of vicious killers Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross. Evidence found in room 392 suggests that the two have formed a partnership with a man by the name of Spencer Smith, who neighbors say suddenly left town yesterday. It is believed that he is currently aiding the two criminals. If you see any suspicious activity, please dial 9-1-1 immediately. Thank you._


	12. Blame Everyone But Me For This Mess

_"A shirt covered in the man's blood was discovered in room 113, which a man by the name of Spencer Smith had-"_

_"Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie are said to be in partnership with a Sp-"_

_"The body of a man was found in-"_

_"Ryan Ross and Brendon-"_

"It's on every fucking radio station." I said finally just switching the thing off. 

"Why do they always say your name first?" Brendon complained. "I have yet to hear a 'Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross' radio broadcast. I'm just as dangerous as you." he finished crossing his arms. 

I chucked and kissed his cheek. 

"I think you're just in a bad mood because you didn't get your beauty sleep." I mumbled. 

"How the hell did they find that guy? We hid him in a hole, in a wall, behind a dumpster for fucks sake! It's not like anyone saw us..." he grumbled. 

"I don't know. Maybe the hole belonged to a hobo or something." I said. 

He sighed. 

"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" I offered. 

"I can't sleep now. I'm wide awake." he grumbled. I chuckled and grabbed his hand. Spencer had not yet reacted to the fact that he was now wanted by the law, and it's all our fault. He can't be happy about it though. 

"So where exactly are we going?" Brendon asked. 

"I don't know." I answered honestly. "One of the first places they'll check will be Spencers. Even if it is in New York, we have to find somewhere else to go. 

"It's actually a place I share with my sister." Spencer mumbled. "It's under her name. They won't look for us there. And she's in California anyway." 

"Works for me." Brendon said. "And besides, if we stay there, it'll give us time to get new disguises and info and stuff, that way we can go back to our old routine." 

All of a sudden, Spencer pulled over on the side of the deserted road, fairly violently, then banged his head on the steering wheel. 

"Spence?" I questioned. 

"How could this fucking happen?" he mumbled. He then snapped his head up and glared at us through the rear view mirror. "Just a few fucking days ago I was a normal guy, shopping at the local store. Now I'm fucking wanted by the law!" he exclaimed. "I never wanted this! I was dragged into it by you two. I was just trying to be a good friend to Brendon by not turning him in, and ended up being and accessory to murder! I can never go back home, and it's all your guys' fault!" he began freaking out. 

There was a long silent pause while Brendon and I looked at each other. 

Brendon sighed and looked down. 

"I'm sorry Spencer." he mumbled. "I guess I never realized how much you'd be affected by this." 

"We're both sorry." I said. "I guess if we had hid the body better, or whatever we did wrong, we wouldn't be in this mess." I mumbled.

"I told you guys not to pull any funny business." he mumbled almost inaudibly. He then yawned. 

I looked at Bren, and he looked upset-- guilty-- for putting his life long friend through this mess. 

"Spencer," I started. "You look tired. Why don't you come back here and sleep. Brendon and I can dive tonight." I offered. 

He sighed. "Okay. I could use the sleep." he said. 

~*~

I had been driving for a couple hours, when I turned to Brendon. "Is he asleep?" I whispered. Brendon turned around to peek at him, but a snore answered my question. 

"Yup." Brendon said. 

"I have an idea." I started. He looked at me. "To help Spencer." I added. 

"Really now?" he asked. "So you actually care about someone other then yourself?" he questioned. 

I rolled my eyes. 

"I care about people you know. Just not certain ones. And I care about you. I care about you a lot." I added, ignoring the blush creeping up on my face. 

He smiled. "I care about you too." he then leaned over to kiss my cheek. 

"I love you." I blurted out. My eyes widened when I realized what I did. I wasn't expecting it to come out of my mouth. I don't think I've ever used those words in my life ever. I've never had reason to. I wasn't even really thinking them directly. My subconscious must know things I don't. 

I looked over to see that he looked surprised. Shit I hope I didn't just fuck everything up. 

"I, um-" 

"I love you too, Ryan Ross." he interrupted me with a smirk. 

"Really?" I asked. 

He then leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips, causing me to veer into the other (fortunately empty) lane. 

"So what's this idea of yours?" he asked, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers. 

"I figured we could 'prove Spencer innocent.'" I said using air quotes. 

He raised and eyebrow. "Really? And how do you propose we do that?" he questioned. 

"Well," I started. "I figure we can make it look like we kidnapped Spencer, and used his card to purchase the room. Then Spencer 'got away' and ran to the cops. We might have to beat him up a little bit. But anyway, he goes in and tells this overly dramatic story of how cruel we were and how we made him buy us a hotel room." I finished. 

"Hmmmm. You're quite the genius Mr. Ross. There is one problem though." he added. 

"And what is that?" I asked. 

"It's obvious they're going to bring this kind of thing to court. And someone is bound to bring up the fact that Spencer and I have been best friends since we were little. Just that fact alone might prove it's a set up." he added. 

"Not if that's the reason why we kidnapped him instead of killing him. Brendon Urie didn't want to murder his best friend, so he held him hostage so that he wouldn't run to the cops. Unfortunately, he got away and did anyway." I added with a smirk on my face. 

"You may have something here." Brendon said. "Now we just have to see if Spencer will go through with it. He is a little bit of a chicken."

I laughed. "Well if he doesn't, we'll have to convince him that we really will kill him so he will run away and go through with it." 

"No, Spencer knows me to well. He knows I'd never go through with it." he said rolling his eyes. 

I laughed. "But he doesn't know me." I added. 

"But he knows I'd never let you." he said pointing a finger at me. 

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." I said. "When do you want to wake Spencer? We'll probably be getting into New York in a few hours."


	13. Until This Pool of Blood

We'd decided to stop while we were still an hour or two away from the city, and it was still dark. We were in the parking lot of a little convenience store (one that was practically empty except for like one car, which I assumed belonged to the poor bastard at the register in the store), and Ryan had suggested pulling over and forcing Spencer to go to the police.

So, after talking things over and deciding exactly how to go about everything, I hopped out of the car and opened the back door, poking Spencer in the forehead.

"Wake up, Spencer!" I sing-songed. Spencer scowled without opening his eyes.

"Where are we?"

"Open your eyes and find out," Ryan replied callously, opening the driver's side door and stepping out of the vehicle. Spencer groaned and sat up, looking confused.

"A store? Aren't we supposed to be in New York by now? We really shouldn't be stopping, what if someone sees my car and calls the fucking cops, or-"

"Just get out of the goddamn car!" Ryan snapped, and Spencer's eyes widened.

"But what-"

"Spencer, this is the last fucking time I ask nicely," he barked. "Out. Now."

I frowned, but didn't say anything. Poor Spencer, probably all confused and sleepy and shit...

"Brendon," Ryan said, and I looked over at him. He motioned towards the store, where a woman was curiously looking over at us through the glass from behind the counter, probably wondering what all the yelling was about, or why we were here so late at night.

"Do you want me to-"

"Kill her," Ryan sighed. "We can't risk her overhearing anything. And there might be cameras, so take care of those, too."

"Right, got it," I said, attempting to find the knife in the back of Spencer's car.

"Fuck, wait, Brendon," Spencer chimed in, glaring. "I thought you only killed homophobes and drunks, not fucking innocent people!"

"Sometimes, people get in the way," I replied, successfully finding my knife and shoving it in my jacket.

"That's not-" Spencer started.

"Shut up," Ryan commanded. Spencer narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you being such an assh-"

"Spencer, I swear to fucking god, if I have to repeat myself one more time to you-"

"I'm sorry, Spence," I sighed, looking from him to Ryan and back. "You know I am."

Without another word, I walked into the little store.

"Hello," the woman greeted uncertainly. "Um. Can I ask what's going on out there?"

I glanced at her, half smiling. Sarah, her name tag said.

"Well, Sarah," I said, stepping closer to the counter, "It's not really that big of a deal. My friends are all just cranky. we've been driving for awhile..."

_Shit, what if there's a little red panic button under that counter?_

"Oh. Sorry for being nosy, but I'm just supposed to ask, if I see something..." she trailed off. "Oh my god, is he okay?"

She rushed out from behind the counter to the large glass window. Ryan was flailing his arms like a madman, screaming, and Spencer was just standing there with wide eyes and a shocked expression.

"Ryan? He's harmless, don't worry about it," I laughed, taking the knife out from under my jacket. She didn't look away from the window.

"Hey, do I...know you? You look fa-" she stopped once she turned around, expression changing from curious to horrified in an instant.

"Probably. We're all over the news, hun," I replied, smiling. "Now, listen. Honestly, I don't want to have to do this. But it's precautionary, so...I'm sorry."

I stepped closer, cornering her.

"I-I-I, no, please," she begged. "I d-didn't do anyth-"

"I know you didn't, sweetie. That's why I'm sorry about it," I sighed, shoving her against the glass of the window without bothering to cover her mouth. Who was gonna hear her scream, anyway? Ryan? The little fucker loves that shit.

I pressed the blade against her throat and smirked.

"So. Are you going to scream for me?" I asked, and as if on cue, a shriek slipped from her mouth.

Outside, I saw Ryan glance over, eyes widening, before something hit me over the head and everything went black.

~•~

"What the f-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

It was a woman's voice, different from Sarah's, and I let my eyes flutter open.

"I'll be damned. You're Brendon Urie, aren't you?"

I nodded and looked outside. Spencer was standing near the glass, and Ryan was staring in abject horror a few feet behind him.

Well, fuck. Game over.

"And the police were right!" Sarah squeaked. "Is that Spencer Smith? The guy who you're working with now?"

I frowned. Well at least I can save Spencer, right?

"No, I only fucking work with Ryan!" I snapped, hoping it was convincing enough. "Fucking police theories. They're idiots, every one of them. Hey, can I have my knife back?"

"Fuck no!" the other girl yelled. I smiled.

"Sorry. Thought it was worth a try," I laughed bitterly, standing up.

"Sit down!" Sarah commanded. I rolled my eyes.

"Sheesh, you're acting like I'm Jack The Ripper or something. Chill out. I'm just standing up. My head hurts. D'you think I have a concussion? What the hell did you even hit me with, anyway? And where the hell did you come from?"

"I was in the back, on break. You honestly think we'd be allowed to stay here all alone in the middle of the night? Fucking idiot," the other girl hissed. I frowned.

"You really wanna try and piss me off? I don't need a knife to kill you, you know," I growled.

"Who is Spencer Smith, then?" Sarah interrupted. I sighed and looked through the glass at Spencer.

"It's locked," she said. "Who is he? Talk."

"Best friend since kindergarten. I didn't have the balls to kill him, so we're letting him live. Plus, the cops found our old credit cards, and we needed new ones," I explained. "The kid hates us. Ryan's probably standing behind him so that he doesn't escape. Oh, Ryan. Can I wave to him? Hi, Ryan!" I waved at him, smiling apologetically, but his expression didn't change.

Damn it, he was right from the beginning. He specifically said that we could lose each other, but I didn't listen. And now I'm going to be rotting in prison, or be put to death, and he's going to be out here with Spencer worrying about me.

"Spencer's a captive?" Sarah asked. I nodded, glad she was buying it.

"Yeah. I'm a mean guy, but I just can't kill him. It's kinda embarrassing. Maybe Ryan'll do it when the cops come...are they on their way yet? Fuckers. Hey, can I like, have a-"

"No. Sarah, go call the cops on the phone behind the counter," the girl commanded.

"Hold on," Sarah said softly. "We can't just let him die out there."

I tried to keep the smile off my face as she unlocked the door and Spencer walked in. Ryan hurried closer, but the door was locked again before he got to it.

"Fuckers! Don't you touch him!" he growled, slapping his palm against the glass.

"Why did you let me in?" Spencer asked, seemingly confused.

"Because since you're our hostage and I couldn't kill you, they don't want Ryan to," I mumbled, glancing over at him and smiling slightly. "Congratulations on being the only one to ever escape alive, asshole." 

His eyes widened.

"Oh. Uh, thanks?"

Sarah beamed.

"You're lucky you survived!" she said. Spencer nodded slowly.

"Yeah..." he muttered. "Lucky. Hey, do you have water?"

"Up at the counter, yeah. Help yourself. There's a phone back there too, would you mind calling the cops? We both have to watch him, so he doesn't..."

"Alright," Spencer sighed, shooting me an angry glare.

But what did I do?

The girls watched me closely, and Spencer walked over the counter and picked up my knife that was still laying on the floor where I had dropped it when I passed out.

Fuck...what?!

Spencer walked up behind the girl I didn't have a name for and gave me a final glare before grabbing her and holding her in place.

"What the hell....no!" Sarah squeaked, eyes going wide. I hurried over and pulled her away before she could get to Spencer.

"Pl-Please, no, I'm sorry, I don't-" she pleaded. I frowned.

"Shut up," I commanded, putting a hand over her mouth and looking over at Spencer.

"Best friends, Spencer Smith!" I cheered, smiling widely. "You...I owe you. Remember that. Hand me my knife?"

"I fucking hate you," he hissed, doing as I asked. I laughed and sliced the girl's throat without any hesitation, letting her fall to the floor with a dull thud. I glanced at the girl Spencer was holding.

"Would you like to kill her, or-"

"I'm not a fucking murderer!" he snarled, and the girl thrashed around a little. I shrugged.

"Alright, alright. I was just being polite, Jesus Christ," I said, letting out a light laugh. Here I am, mentioning Jesus as I'm about to kill someone. 

There was a tap on the glass outside, and I looked over to see Ryan, still standing outside the store. I smiled at him and turned away from the girl.

"Spencer, hold her for a second," I mumbled, walking over to let Ryan in.

"I'm letting her go in five minutes, Brendon, I swear to god!" he hissed, and I nodded, smirking. There's god again, at the scene of a murder.

I unlocked the door, and Ryan immediately wrapped me in a hug. I wasn't sure whether he looked happy or angry.

"Brendon, you fucker," he breathed, letting me go. "I thought...shit, do you even realize how-"

"I know, I know," I laughed. "I'm sorry."

"You should be, you're the worst," he replied, surging forward to attach our lips. I leaned away from him, though, grabbing his hand and motioning towards the woman Spencer was still holding.

"Ryan, that's our top priority right now," I protested.

He sighed, but nodded anyway, taking my knife.

"Spencer," he said, grabbing the girl's wrist, "I suggest you let her go in three seconds, or you're gonna end up-"

Spencer let go before Ryan even finished his sentence, and I smiled.

"Wanna give me a hand with the cameras, Spence?" I asked. He turned to face me, eyes wide and face drained of color.

"I guess," he muttered. I arched an eyebrow.

"You okay?"

He frowned.

"Am I okay?! It's one thing, being accused of being an accessory to murder; but it's another thing completely if I actually did help kill someone! I'm a criminal!" he ranted. "Do you even understand what I'm saying, Brendon?!"

I rolled my eyes.

"Spencer, you're freaking out," I said. He groaned in frustration.

"Damn fucking right I'm freaking out!" he hissed. I sighed.

"Listen, once you get to New York, things'll be fine and you'll never have to deal with any of this again, alright?" I asked. "Just calm down and help me with these cameras."

"How do I know it'll end in New York? What does that have to do with anything?" he questioned. Ryan let the girl's body lay on the floor and stood up, hair falling across his blood-spattered face.

"Because we're not coming with you," he replied, half-smiling. "Sorry for being an asshole, I was hoping you'd leave on your own."

"Yeah. Spencer, after this, you're going to the cops and claiming to be a hostage, alright? Say we were cruel and sadistic and we made out on your suitcase every night and-"

"I can't," he said, cutting me off. Ryan frowned.

"Why not?" he asked. Spencer sighed.

"Because I'm actually guilty now, and it isn't fair. I'm a bad liar anyway, and plus, you guys'll get caught in a day if you don't have me with you," he replied. "I said we were going to New York, and that's what we're going to do."

Ryan looked at me questioningly, and then back to Spencer. My eyes widened.

"Are...you sure?" I asked slowly. He nodded, frowning.

"Yeah, and you're going to have to kill me before you convince me otherwise. Now, let me help you with those cameras?"

I beamed at him.

"I repeat: best friend, Spencer Smith!" I gushed, looking over at Ryan. "Are you gonna clean up the bodies?"

"I'll just throw the pieces in a pile so they won't know who is who," he laughed. I smiled.

"Alright. Spencer, get the cameras; and I'll grab the money from the register and put some food in the car for later. Hurry up, before someone stops here and we have to kill them, too," I said, turning around and beginning to comb through the aisles to find Oreos.


	14. Hiding With You

"We're here." Spencer sighed. He had pulled up to a huge house, which seemed to be in the center of a huge lot. There wasn't another house for blocks. 

Brendon was asleep with his head resting on my chest. I kissed his cheek and his eyes fluttered open. 

"We're here." I mumbled. He yawned and sat up, stretching his arms. 

"Its about time." he said. I chuckled and got out of the car. Spencer lead the way into the house very drowsily. 

"You guys can sleep where ever the hell you want. There's like six bedrooms." he said making his way up the stairs. He yawned. "You can find them yourselves." 

"Spencer, how can you afford a place like this?" I asked. 

"Me and my older sis inherited it." he answered, disappearing up the stairs. 

"Damn." Brendon mumbled. "I haven't been here in for-fucking-ever." he said. 

"You've been here before?" I asked. 

"I used to go on vacation with them a lot." he answered. "I haven't been here since 8th grade though." he continued. 

"But you know where everything is?" I asked. "Cuz I gotta piss bad." 

He laughed. "You have the smallest bladder, I swear to god… Yes. It's down the hall. Second door on the left." 

~*~

We found ourselves a bedroom upstairs, (there were unfortunately none downstairs, you know, in case we had to jump out a window or something.) and Brendon immediately collapsed on the bed. He laid flat on his back with his arm over his eyes. 

"Hey, no sleeping." I ordered. 

He groaned. "Why not?" 

"Because it's 11:30 in the morning." I answered. "And besides, there kind if something else I want to do…" 

He didn't move. 

I smirked and made my way towards him, crawling on the bed, and straddling his hips. I then grabbed his arms and restrained them over his head. 

He smirked. "Ooh. Aggressive. I like it." 

I smirked and brought my lips down on his in the same semi-aggressive manner. I shoved my tongue in his mouth and brought one of my hands down to cup his face. 

He sat up a little, not detaching our lips, and rolled over so he was on top of me. His hand traveled down my chest and slipped under my shirt, moving across the plains of my upper torso. 

My hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, separating our lips for a moment. My hands roamed all over his torso, resting on his ass. 

He was about to reach for my pants when there was a knock on the door. Brendon pulled away and sighed. 

"What is it?" I yelled. 

"I'm ordering Chinese food. What do you guys want?" Spencer yelled from the other side of the door. 

Brendon's eyes widened, and an excited smile appeared on his face. He replied before I could get a word out. 

"Oh my fucking God! Can I have egg rolls?!" he exclaimed, jumping off me. I rolled my eyes and sat up. 

"Okay… anything else?" 

"FUCK YES!" Brendon exclaimed. I sighed. 

"Just get whatever." I said. 

"Alright." Spencer said, heading back downstairs. 

I sighed. "Well, shall we go downstairs perhaps?" 

"Might as well." Brendon said. "We'll just hide when the delivery guy gets here." 

I agreed, and we headed downstairs. 

~*~

"There's nothing to eat." Brendon observed, staring into an empty fridge. 

"Thats why I ordered Chinese." Spencer said, sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. I was looking at the family pictures hanging on the wall, ignoring them both. 

It was then that I heard a few car doors slam. 

"That must be the food." Spencer said. 

"But why would there be more then one-" 

I was interrupted by an exclamation of Spencer's. 

"Oh my God. Fuck no!" Spencer said looking out the window. 

"What?" I asked alarmed. 

"No no no no. " he said running into the living room. "Hide!" he exclaimed. 

My eyes widened, and I pulled Brendon into a near by pantry, just as he was about to ask why. 

"Spencer?" a female voice asked. 

"Uh, hi mom, sis… uh, Mrs Urie." Spencer said. "What are you doing here?"


	15. Mama, We all Go to Hell

"Uh, hi mom, sis... uh, Mrs Urie. What are you doing here?"

As soon as I heard Spencer say my mom's name, I desperately tried to find a hole or something that I could see them through. I felt anger bubbling up already, and I could tell that this wasn't going to turn out well.

"Bren," Ryan whispered, barely audible, "what are you-"

"Ssh, I wanna see them," I replied just as quietly. I found a gap in between the slats on the pantry door that I could see out of, and scowled. God damn it, she was here. The anger I was starting to feel immediately turned to fury.

Ryan looked out the gap above mine and frowned.

"You have her eyes," he mumbled. "This is the lunatic, right?"

I nodded, watching Spencer's mom back away from him with an expression that suggested she had no idea who he was. She looked scared, disappointed; and oh god, if she called the cops on him, would we be in this pantry forever?

Is pantry sex possible?

I tried to turn around and look at Ryan, but it was too small, and I just ended up accidentally hitting him in the stomach.

"Ow!" he hissed.

"Sorry," I muttered in a hushed tone.

No, pantry sex isn't possible.

Damn.

I turned my attention back to Spencer's mom.

"What are we doing here?" she asked shakily. "Spencer, you're wanted in Nevada for assisted murder! What are you doing here? I have half a mind to-"

"Mom," Spencer cut her off, sighing angrily. "I swear to you, I didn't kill anyone. Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross kidnapped me."

I saw my mother's face go white at the mention of my name.

"Kidnapped?" Spencer's sister asked.

I wonder what she'd do if I burst out of the pantry to give her a hug. She was so nice to me when we were kids. 

But that would mean we'd get caught, so...no.

Why wasn't I a dentist? This didn't happen to dentists.

"I ran into Brendon at a store and recognized him, even though he was in disguise," Spencer explained, lying smoothly. "But he couldn't kill me because we were friends for so long, and he felt bad. So they kidnapped me and used my credit cards so the cops wouldn't find them, and if I didn't do what they said, I was scared I was going to die, you know? Brendon wouldn't kill me, but I'd never met Ryan. He's the scarier one."

"Hey!" I frowned.

Ryan laughed quietly and kissed the top of my head.

"Don't worry, I still think you're scary."

I smiled lightly and looked back out at Spencer, who was still talking.

"Guys, please believe me. You know I'm not a murderer, why would I throw my life away like that?" he asked. "I'm just...this was the only place I knew they wouldn't look for me, and I'm waiting until things calm down a little before I go to the cops. I didn't know what else to do," he concluded, sounding genuine and honest.

Everything was quiet for a few minutes, until suddenly Spencer's mom wrapped him in a hug.

"I knew you weren't a murderer!" she said happily. "No one else believed me, but I knew!"

My mom sighed, and I scowled. I almost forgot she was here.

"So I suppose this means that Brendon's still a psychopath?" she asked. I rolled my eyes. Spencer looked like he wanted to roll his eyes as well, but knew it would give him away.

"I...yeah," he sighed. My mother pursed her lips.

"That's..." she paused. "I don't even know why I asked. Of course he is. But I guess he'll have to learn. He must know by now that the lord will seek his revenge for all that he's done to those innocent people."

"Oh my god, shut up," I hissed under my breath. Ryan laughed a little.

"And to his own family, as well," Spencer's mom chimed in. My frown returned. I didn't do anything to my family that they didn't deserve. "He was such a good kid," she sighed.

"His family?" my mom asked. "What family? Brendon's not my son. You know what he is? A disgrace and a disappointment. He's a sociopath. He may be my blood, but he's the devil's son, not mine," she scoffed. I immediately felt my jaw drop. I can understand being disappointed in me, but I wasn't aware she hated me that much. It's one thing to disapprove, but another thing to completely disown me. 

"Brendon?" Ryan asked, sounding concerned. "Are you oka-"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Just shh, I want to hear them."

He hesitantly nodded, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and sighing. I leaned into his touch and looked back through the gap, realizing I'd missed a part of the conversation.

"It's fine, Spencer," his mom was saying. "Your aunt's been wanting to see us for a little while, anyway. We can stay there." she glanced at my mother. "Is that okay with you?"

"Absolutely," she deadpanned. "Goodbye, Spencer, and I'm sorry about Brendon."

I scowled.

"It's fine," Spencer replied through clenched teeth.

"It isn't," my mother said. "He's the worst mistake I've ever made. It's embarrassing and disappointing to have a demonic faggot in the family." She sighed. "But there's not much I can do. If I could go back in time, I'd rethink even having him; but I can't, so I suppose I'll have to live with the knowledge of the monster I've created. I'll be in the car, okay?"

She left, and I bit down hard on my tongue to avoid hollering after her.

Maybe Ryan was right that night in the hotel. Maybe we should kill her.

...except that would put Spencer's family in a bad position, and I couldn't do that. Not after they'd been so nice to me when I was growing up.

"Thanks, mom," Spencer sighed once my mom left. "You too, sis. I don't know what I would have done if you just turned me in instead of hearing me out."

His sister smiled.

"Hey, Spence, it's alright, you're family!" she said. His mother nodded.

"That's right," she agreed. "Listen, Spencer. How about we all go out for pizza or something, and you can tell us all about what happened, hm? You must need someone to talk to, and...well, none of us have seen you in a little while."

Spencer nodded hesitantly.

"Uh...okay, I guess. Sure," he replied, and sighed before following them out the door.


	16. You Can't Turn Back Because This Road is all You'll Ever Have

I waited for the sound of car doors closing and taking off before I opened the pantry doors, and exited the cramped excuse of a storage compartment. 

I expected Brendon to follow me, but he just stood in his place staring at the floor. 

"Bren?" I asked walking over to him. He didn't respond. I placed my arm on his shoulder and he flinched. "Brendon, are you alright?" I asked softly. 

"My mother called me a demonic faggot." he mumbled almost inaudibly. I sighed. 

"Brendon, she's a lunatic remember? And you got offended earlier because Spencer said I was scarier. I thought you didn't care." I tried to reason. 

"It's one thing to have news reporters, victims, or even people you don't know say horrible things about you. But when it's your own mother... I haven't seen her in years... Then for her to say..." his voice broke at the end. I looked closer and noticed he was crying. My eyes widened. 

I don't know how to comfort people when they cry. The only people I ever have to deal with cry are the ones I kill. But this was my boyfriend, someone I actually loved, and he was crying over his mother. 

I wrapped him in a hug and kissed his cheek. 

"It will be okay Bren." I whispered. He sniffed. 

"Why did I do this huh Ryan? Why did I have to fucking abandon my family and loose their love and trust? Why couldn't I have just gotten married and had a million kids like she wanted? Why can't I have what Spencer has?" he choked on his sobs. 

"Because that's not who you are." I told him. "You would have been unhappy that way. Spencer… he's a good guy. You're not. I thought you loved that. That's one of the many things I love about you." I said. He clung to me, but didn't respond. 

"Bren, I you're family now." I continued. "Me and Spencer. We're all you need. Especially me. There's no use in dwelling in what could have been. And turning back now would be of no use, you'd just go to jail. Right now, this road is all you have, but I'm with you every step of the way. Brendon, the only thing you have to worry about now is getting caught. And that's all just par of the game." I finished my speech and by now his crying had stopped. 

He looked up at me with red puffy beautiful eyes. 

"I love you to. So much." he mumbled. The sight of him crying almost made me want to cry. 

Almost. 

He grabbed my face and kissed me passionately, moving his lips desperately. 

"I love you Ryan. Please don't ever leave me." he mumbled into my neck. 

"I won't. I promise."


	17. We're Only Liars, But We're the Best

It was quiet for a few moments as I clung to Ryan, attempting to regain control of my emotions.

Ryan was right. I don't need to listen to her. I don't need acceptance. I don't need a regular, day-to-day, boring, miserable life. Just him and Spencer.

Nothing's stopped us so far, so why should I let my own mother, who has never done anything for me since I was born, just come into my life and destroy everything I've worked so hard to keep going? Fuck her. Me and Ryan, and even Spencer, now...we're family, we're in it together. We're unstoppable.

I let go of Ryan and sighed before cracking a smile. He smiled back.

"So, um-"

Before he could finish, there was a loud knock on the door. We both froze, exchanging horrified looks.

"Who is it? " I whispered. Ryan shrugged, scowling.

"We just never get a goddamn break, do we?" he muttered under his breath. "Hold on, I don't know, I'll go look."

Ryan inched towards the window and looked out, staring for a moment before letting out a light laugh.

"...Ryan?" I asked impatiently.

"The chinese food guy," he replied. I sighed in relief. "Did Spencer leave cash?"

I shrugged before looking around.

There were a few bills on the counter next to Spencer's car keys, and I grabbed them before handing them off to Ryan.

"Do you think he'll recognize us?" I asked as he walked towards the door. He shrugged.

"Only one way to find out. If he does, we'll just kill him," he sighed.

Ryan opened the door to reveal a bored-looking teenager, holding two large bags.

"That's twenty-seven eighty-two," he mumbled, and Ryan awkwardly handed him the money, which I was positive was at least thirty dollars.

"Um. Keep the change, I guess," Ryan said, taking the food and trying to get inside as fast as he could without seeming suspicious.

"Oh, thanks," the teenager said slowly, and then gave Ryan a questioning look. "Hey. Uh. Has anyone ever told you that you look a little bit like that guy off America's Most Wanted? It's really cool."

Ryan stared at him, not saying anything for a moment.

Fuck, I mentally cursed.

"Um. Yeah, actually," he said slowly, biting his lip. "I play him in the reenactments like that." He paused. "You look a little bit like the other one, that Urie guy. I bet you could play him. S'fun," he babbled. The kid smiled, actually buying it. I sighed in relief. All this for a few eggrolls and containers of noodles and rice? Really?

...Oh, who am I kidding? I need comfort food, and god damn it, I just really fucking want an eggroll.

"You think? That'd be so cool, pretending to kill people!" he beamed. Ryan laughed.

"Yeah, for sure. It's a pain in the ass, though. Gotta get up at like 4 AM for make-up and costume."

"Oh, gross. Forget it, then," the teen sighed. "Well, I have to get back to work."

"Hey, listen," Ryan called after him. "Um. Could you do me a favor and not mention this to anyone? The second you say you met someone who looks like a notorious serial killer, the cops are going to have to come check it out, and it's going to be the fifth time this month, and-"

"It's alright, no problem. Bye," the teenager said, and Ryan smiled thankfully and closed the door.

"I would have just panicked and stabbed him. Nice," I laughed, grabbing an eggroll out of one of the bags. Ryan grinned.

"I just can't believe how stupid some people are. Pass me a container of rice?"

I nodded, smiling. "Sure."

~•~

After we were done eating, I sprawled out on the floor and sighed.

"You okay?" Ryan asked. I glanced over at him and smiled lightly.

"Yeah," I replied. He nodded, reaching for my hand and lacing our fingers together.

"Good. It's weird, seeing you upset," he stated.

"Well you were right. I mean, yeah, what she said was completely uncalled for. And yeah, it kinda hurt. But...I don't know. I'd rather be the demonic faggot son of the devil then have her as a mom, anyway. I guess I was just hoping she'd changed."

"Some people never change," Ryan replied, squeezing my hand.

"Yeah. I-"

"Guys, guys, I'm so sorry that happened, I didn't know they were coming!" Spencer interrupted, bursting through the door before quickly locking it behind him. "I didn't even think they came here on vacation any more, they just...you guys ate the chinese food without me?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"You went out to get pizza."

"Fine," Spencer sighed. "Did you sit the change back on the counter?"

"Um."

There was a silence.

"Ryan gave the kid a good tip?"

"You guys suck!" Spencer groaned. "I'll be in my room."

"We saved you a fortune cookie," Ryan offered. I felt my eyes widen. Fortune cookies? There were fortune cookies? And I didn't get one?

"Me too?" I asked, sitting up. Ryan nodded, fishing three out of the bag. I snatched one out of his hand and impatiently cracked it open to read the little bullshit fortune.

_Things always get worse before they get any better._

I scoffed, flipping it over.

"One of my lucky numbers is sixty-nine!" I cheered. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Mine just says 'don't worry, be happy'. What the fuck, I hate that song. Damn it," he sighed. He popped half the cookie into his mouth. "Damn asians. It's stuck in my head now."

Spencer stretched out a bit.

"I'm seriously going upstairs now. Hopefully tomorrow'll be better than today was." he frowned. "And Brendon, I'm really sorry your mom was like that. And I'm sorry I couldn't say anything."

I shrugged.

"It's okay, it doesn't matter," I replied. Spencer nodded before walking upstairs, leaving us alone again. I immediately glanced over to Ryan.

"What does yours say?" I asked. He handed me the white strip of paper.

_Be careful, because everything is about to fall apart faster than you're going to be able to pick up the pieces._


	18. The Words in My Mouth are Blood in Yours

It was the middle of the night and I was thirsty, so I meandered down the stairs while Brendon was still alseep. 

As I walked through the living room, I noticed someone had left the T.V. on the news station. 

_"Spencer Smith, man accused of harboring serial killers, Ryan Ross and Brendon Urie, claims innocence. He said that he was not in partnership with the two, but in fact kidnapped and held hostage. He managed to escape..."_

That idiot. we told him to leave before he got himself (or us) into any trouble. But him and his stubborn ass just had to stay and put us all at risk. 

"I told you, I'm fucking innocent!" I heard Spencer exclaim in a semi-hushed tone from the other room. 

I froze. Fuck, is there better not be anyone here.

Then again why would someone be here at two in the morning?

I fucking hope is not his damn mother again.

"No Jon it's not cool. That's just your fucked up immature mind thinking so."

I exhaled a sigh of relief. He must be on the phone.

"I told you I was just innocently washing my hands in the bathroom when Urie came in dressed as a woman. I opened my big mouth having recognized him, but he didn't have the guts to kill me because we were best friends as kids so he took me hostage. They even stole my credit cards."

I laughed considering that part was actually true.

"What? No! Look, can we stop talking about this? I told you, I'm innocent." I chuckled. I could tell by his voice that Spencer was getting exasperated. 

"Look. I'm tired. I'll talk to you later or something. Okay. Bye." he said sighing and snapping the phone shut. 

I decided that it was about time I made an appearance, so I quietly tip-toed into the kitchen where Spencer was, as he was facing away from me. 

"Who were you talking to?" I asked, causing him to jump and drop his phone in the sink. 

He sighed, turned around, and glared at me. 

"You're lucky there was not water in there." he said. "What are you doing up this late anyway?" 

"I was thirsty." I said nonchalantly, reaching over his head for a glass. "Who were you talking to on the phone?" I asked. 

"My friend Jon." he said. 

"You have friends?" 

"Funny." he responded. "We've been good friends for a while. He heard about what happened to me on the news and called me up all excited. He apparently thinks it's cool that I was kidnapped and held hostage by two serial killers. I swear to god that guys twelve or something." Spencer continued. 

"Right. Just make sure you don't tell him anything that would put us at risk. In fact, I don't know if you should be talking to him at all." I said raising my eyebrow. 

"You can't keep me from talking to my friends. They'd be even more suspicious if I just stopped talking to them anyway. I'm supposed to be home safe now, remember?" Spencer argued. 

"Fine." I said. "Just make sure you don't let anything slip." I warned, filling ip my glass and taking a drink. 

"Eye-eye sir." he responded sarcastically. 

"You're starting to sound like Brendon." I stated, setting my glass down in the sink. "I'm going back to bed." I said. "I'll see you tomorrow or whatever." I said as I left the room. 

"Yeah, okay. Good night." he yawned. 

I made my way back upstairs slowly, and tip-toed into the bedroom to avoid waking Brendon up. He needed his sleep, and he actually looked really cute in this state. 

I crawled back in bed and slid under the covers. My attempt to keep him asleep failed when his eyes fluttered open. 

"Where were you?" he yawned. 

"I just went to get something to drink." I mumbled. "Go back to sleep." I said wrapping him in my arms. 

"Mkay." he mumbled. I kissed his forehead and he buried his face in my chest and sighed. 

"I love you." he said. 

"I love you too. Go back to sleep."


	19. I'm Starting to Scare Myself

I woke up still wrapped in Ryan's arms, barely able to move. Not that I really wanted to, but, you know, breathing and all that.

I wiggled an arm free, poking Ryan in the forehead.

"Mm, what," he mumbled sleepily. I grinned.

"Can you either wake up or let me go?" I asked. He was quiet for a minute, eyes still closed, before he answered.

"I think...no."

I rolled my eyes, trying to loosen his grip.

"Come on, Ryan, not fair, just laying here is so boring," I whined. He sighed, letting me go and sitting up.

"I let you sleep," he pointed out. "You, Brendon, are the one who isn't fair."

I beamed at him, standing up.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he laughed, rolling his eyes. I yawned.

"I'm gonna go creep on Spencer," I announced. He narrowed his eyes.

"And so what was the point of waking me up?"

I grinned.

"Um. Well, if I could have gotten free without waking you up, I would have. But, I couldn't, so," I sighed dramatically. "I guess you can come creep on Spencer with me if you want."

Ryan stood up, stretching a little bit before shrugging.

"I guess, since I'm already awake," he chuckled. I smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the room, down the hall until we were outside Spencer's. His door was closed, but I could hear that he was talking to someone.

"If he's sleeping, we could, like, stand over him with knives, and he won't know whether to be afraid or to shrug us off," Ryan laughed, half-yawning. I shook my head.

"No, I hear him talking, he's awake," I said, knocking lightly on the door. Spencer opened it a few minutes later, phone next to his ear, and signaled for us to be quiet.

"No, Jon. I just...I need some time alone, okay?" he paused, rolling his eyes. "Well no, I don't think they're gong to be able to find me here, and I don't think he'd have the guts to kill me anyway, but...I'll tell you if I can hang out or something. Okay?"

He mumbled some sort of goodbye and hung up the phone, looking over at Ryan and I.

"What do you guys need?"

"Was that the guy from last night?" Ryan asked. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"What's going on?"

Spencer shrugged.

"That was my friend Jon. I was talking to him last night when Ryan came downstairs," Spencer explained. "He keeps asking to come over and hang out, because he's in the area and we haven't seen each other in a while, but I have to politely decline. Thanks for that," he laughed. I frowned.

"You...we can hide or something, if you want, and you can...." I sighed. "I don't want you to like, not have any friends because we're here, or anything. It's not really fair."

Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but Spencer spoke first.

"No, it's okay. If I wanted to hang out with him that bad, I'd ask him if we could go somewhere else."

Ryan nodded.

"Exactly. It would be way too dangerous to have him here while we're in the house anyway, Brendon," he said matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Not really. Remember that time we had to hide in the closet, at Spencer's other house?" I asked. Ryan's face reddened slightly.

"Uh, yeah, but that was still...still dangerous," he muttered, and I laughed.

"It's not like he'll come looking for us or anything," I argued. Ryan shook his head.

"I said no. I don't want him here." He looked to Spencer. "I hate to have to say this, but if he ends up being here while we're in the house and I find out, or he somehow manages to find out that we're here, I'm going to have to kill him." Ryan sighed. "I'm going back to bed. Okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer, he just walked back down the hallway and into our room. I heard the door close behind him.

"What the fuck?" I asked. "No, fuck that, bring him over. It's not that big of a risk. Want me to talk to him?"

Spencer sighed loudly.

"It's okay, Brendon. I don't mind. Seriously. It isn't-"

"No, no, tell him to come over. Ryan won't kill him. I have a feeling we won't be killing anyone for a little bit. Incognito, and all that. Throwing the police off our trail," I laughed. "I'll go talk to Ryan."

Spencer shrugged.

"If you really want to. I really don't mind too much," he repeated. I smiled.

"I do. I'll be back."

I left Spencer's room and slowly opened the door to the room Ryan was in, and found him laying on the bed. He looked over when I walked in.

I closed the door behind myself and frowned.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" I asked. Ryan shrugged.

"I'm doing it for you, you know. I don't want us to get caught. I don't want to take any chances," he said simply. I sighed.

"I thought I taught you that you don't have to be so cautious about everything," I replied. "Jon is friends with Spencer. So are we. If we trust Spencer, and Spencer trusts Jon, that why shouldn't he be able to actually have a friend other than us?"

Ryan arched an eyebrow.

"He won't be okay with just two friends?" he asked. "I only have you and him, and I'm fine."

"That's different and you know it," I groaned, sitting down next to him on the bed. "If you were stuck with only two friends who could kill you any time they wanted, who constantly made crude jokes about them having sex, and whom you caught on more than one occasion making out on your things, wouldn't you want another friend?"

Ryan laughed a little.

"No, I'd be fine."

"Well that's because you enjoy solitude," I huffed, crossing my arms. "The point is, Spencer's allowed to have a friend, Ryan. Do you expect him to just never talk to anyone again, just because he has us as friends? It's stupid. You know what? I say if Spencer trusts him enough, then whatever, he can just tell this Jon guy that we're here, that way we won't have to hide."

Ryan's eyes widened.

"Fuck no! Are you crazy? We already told Spencer, that was enough! Now you want to tell a stranger? That's fucking insane!"

"No it isn't!" I argued. "If he's really Spencer's friend, then he won't give us away! We're pretty much safe now, Ryan, as long as we don't go along killing people! And it isn't like we're just mass murderers, like, we go around killing anything that moves! We do it for a reason, I'm sure he'll understand. Spencer doesn't make friends with the type of people that wouldn't."

"You haven't seen Spencer since you were little, he could have changed the way he picks his friends," Ryan muttered. "I mean, after befriending a murderer? I'd change the kind of people I was friends with, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. Ryan shrugged.

"Nothing, I guess. But no. Spencer isn't telling Jon, and Jon is to stay far away from here." He closed his eyes and fell flat on his back. "And I meant what I said. I'll kill him if I have to. If it's what I have to do to keep us safe."

"You're fucking ridiculous!" I hissed, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind me. Spencer poked his head out of the doorway.

"Lover's spat?" he asked, half-smiling. I glared at him, and the smile vanished.

"Shut up, Spencer, it was over you and Jon," I growled.. "I'm going downstairs."


	20. You May Be a Sinner, But your Innocence is Mine

After my annoyance blew off, I began to feel bad for being so harsh. I decided to go downstairs and maybe apologize. It's not fun when the only person you have left in the world is mad at you. 

I made my way downstairs and he was sulking on the couch. I walked over and sat next to him. 

"Hey Bren." I mumbled. 

"Hi." he mumbled back, not looking at me. 

"Brendon, I'm sorry. I hate it when we fight, but you understand why I'm so paranoid though right?" I said in a soothing tone, grabbing his hand. 

"Yeah, it's okay. I'm not mad anymore." he mumbled. 

I smiled and snaked my arm around his waist. 

"Then what's the matter?" I asked. He still looked like he wanted to cry. 

"Are you sure you're not still mad?" I asked. He smiled and kissed my cheek. 

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Then what's eating you?" I asked. 

He sighed. "Just... Don't worry about it. It's nothing." he said. 

"No Bren, tell me. I don't like seeing you upset. And it's even worse if I don't know why." I told him. 

He smiled meekly at me before resting his head on my shoulder. 

"I-I think I want to see my mom." he said. 

There was a pause. 

"What?" I asked, pulling away and looking at him. 

"I. Want. To. See. My. Mom." he repeated, enunciating. 

"Why?" I asked, still not totally comprehending. 

"Because... I don't know. Ever since the whole encounter thing, I kind of realized how much I used to love her, and how well we used to get along. I kind of miss it. And I know that I can never go back, obviously, but I just kind of need some sort of closure before I go insane." he explained. 

I sighed and pulled him close again. 

"Brendon, I really don't think that's such a good idea." I told him. He tensed then pulled away. 

"Of course you don't." he muttered bitterly. "You never think any of my ideas are good ideas! You're just so... so..." he trailed off. 

I sighed again. 

"Brendon, I'm just afraid she'll hurt you. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. And what happens if she calls the cops and you don't get out in time? Brendon I can't loose you. I don't know how I would be able to go on if I lost you." I told him. 

"Don't you trust me to be careful?" he asked, looking hurt again. 

"Brendon, do you remember what happened last time? Do you know how scared I was that I'd never see you again?" I tried to reason. I didn't want to bring it up, but he just doesn't understand. She would verbally abuse him, then threaten to call the cops. And being Brendon, he would probably freak out and kill her with out thinking. He could never live with himself if he killed his mother. He may be a "serial killer" but killing his mother would ruin him. No matter how much of a crazy bitch she is, it would probably break him. 

He glowered down towards his hands folded in his lap. 

"Right. Whatever. Forget it. I'm going to bed." he mumbled, standing up. 

I stood up with him. 

"I'm really sorry Bren." I tried, taking his hand. 

"It doesn't matter." he mumbled. 

I pulled him close as we walked upstairs, and as we got in bed I wrapped him in my arms. 

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "I love you." 

"I love you too." he whispered, then reached up to kiss me on the lips. 

~*~ 

Brendon's POV

He doesn't understand. He just doesn't understand. There's no use in trying to get through to him. He doesn't even try to understand. 

I need this. I really need this. I need to vent everything I've been building up over the years to my mother, and never see her again. 

I need her to know that my only family is Ryan now. (Leave Spencers name out for his sake.)

I waited until Ryan was snoring softly, until I carefully removed his arm from around my waist and scooted towards the end of the bed. 

I managed to sit up before he started stirring. 

His snoring stopped, and I froze. 

"Where are you going?" he asked in a sleepy daze, not even opening his eyes. 

"I'm thirsty." I said. 

"Mkay." he mumbled before rolling over and falling asleep again. 

I exhaled a sigh of relief, and made my way downstairs. 

I then remembered a small little detail: I have no idea where she is currently residing. 

But I also remembered Spencer saying something about how she was staying with his aunt. 

Awesome. 

If only I knew where she lived. 

He has to keep her address somewhere in this house. 

I began rummaging through the drawers of the tables and stands in the living room until I found what I was looking for. 

An address book. 

I found her address, and decided it was close enough to walk, so I wouldn't risk waking Ryan or Spencer up with the car. 

I put my hood up, put my glasses on, (I don't wear them too often, so maybe it will help keep me from being recognized) shoved the book in my jacket pocket, and headed out the door. 

~*~

I reached her house, and found myself crouching in the bushes, peering at my mother reading a book by herself in the living room. The window was open a tiny crack. 

"Grace?" Spencer's mom, Ginger called from the staircase. "The girls are asleep, I'm going to shower upstairs. There's another bathroom downstairs as you know, if you need a shower. Good night!" she called in a cheery voice. 

"Good night! Thanks again for letting me come on vacation with you, and see you in the morning." My mother said with a smile, glancing up from her book. 

"No problem dear. You needed to get out of the house. And see you tomorrow." she said before disappearing up the stairs. 

This is so perfect. Now how am I going to get her attention with out her freaking out and waking up the whole family? 

She put her book down, and walked into the bathroom, where she stood in front of the mirror and took her pills. 

Years of practice managed to teach me how to make no sound while breaking into the house, so she didn't hear me slide the window open and crawl in. She didn't even notice my presence until I pushed my way into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. 

She gasped and looked like she was about to scream before I put my hand over her mouth. 

I shushed her. 

"Please don't scream. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." I said quietly. "It's me, Brendon." 

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed under my hand, so it sounded more like a muffled bunch of words I almost couldn't make out. 

"I just need to talk to you." I said. "Then I'll leave and never bother you again." I promised. "I promise I won't hurt you as long as you stay quiet." I said. She nodded. 

As soon as I removed my hand, her expression melted from fear to disgust and probably anger. 

"What do you want?" she asked bitterly. "And the only reason I'm not calling the cops is because who knows what kind of horrendous thing you'd do to your own mother. You horrible little-" 

"Stop. Stop right there." I interrupted her. "How can you say something like that to your own son? Huh? I know I've done some pretty messed up things in your eyes, but what ever happened to unconditional love?" I said. 

She paused, crossed her arms, and glared at me. 

"Brendon, you've murdered several innocent, helpless people. How can I deal with something like that? As a mother, what was I supposed to do? Stand by and watch you do the devils work? You're a sinner if I've ever seen one!" she exclaimed. 

"They're hardly innocent!" I exclaimed, somewhat quietly. "I do what I do because there are people that deserve to die. You know the other day we Killed a guy because he physically abused his pregnant girlfriend? And then another one who beat the shit out of his son for being gay. Sound familiar? And who the fuck cares if I'm a sinner? If it's all god freaks like you in heaven anyway, why would I want to go there? Why did you have to shove that down my throat my entire life?! 'Don't do this, you'll go to hell. Don't do that or you'll god won't love you. Don't do this or I'll fucking call you a faggot and disown you!'"

"Oh so now this is my fault? You became a horrible excuse for a son because I tried to put you on the right path?!" she exclaimed. "You're a monster. You don't deserve-"

"Deserve what? Love? A family? Well guess what! I have it already. Ryan loves me! He fucking loves me. And he's my family now. I don't need you, or dad, or anyone else in our... In _your _family. I don't." I said. My voice broke at the end. I mentally cursed myself.__

"If you're so 'happy' with your god forsaken, messed up life, then why did you come here? Why did you have to come find and harass me?" She spit bitterly. 

"Because." I barked back. "Because I need closure. I needed to tell you that I don't need you, that you're a crazy bitch so I can move on with my life and never see you again!" I exclaimed. 

"I'm crazy? Did you just seriously accuse me of being the crazy one here?" she exclaimed. "You're a murderer! What happened to the innocent little boy who used to love his family? The one who always talked about wanting to be a veterinarian when he grew up, or a fire man? What happened to the boy I loved?" she ranted on, her voice breaking at the end. I looked up and noticed she had a couple tears falling down her face. 

"He left. He died. He saw the real world for what it was." I mumbled grimly. 

"We used to get along so well. You used to sit on my lap and tell me stories and about your day. You used to need me to tuck you in at night." she cried. She then sunk down to the floor, hugged herself, and let the tears fall. 

I watched her cry, and suddenly a tear fell down my cheek as well. Then I was on the ground next to her, crying at the memories. 

Something I never wanted to admit to myself, I missed it. I missed my family sometimes. 

Ryan is many things, but he's not a mother. He's not a father. Spencer is kind of like a father figure, but not the same. 

"It was at about eleven when you started to change. You began saying disturbing things. You kept trying to hurt the dog. I would find dead, severed worms and insects all over the house. Eventually birds and smaller animals. I didn't know what to do." she vented. 

I didn't respond. Instead I just cried next to her. 

"I miss it sometimes." I nearly whispered after a silence. "Sometimes I miss my family. But I know I can never go back. That's why I needed to do this. I need closure. Sometimes I secretly regret everything I've done because it means I don't get a family. It means I don't get everything I fantasized about as a kid." I vented back. The tears came harder with every word. "But there's nothing I can do now. And I don't regret anything enough to turn myself in. I don't regret anything enough to destroy what I've spent years building up."

She cried harder. 

"Brendon," she mumbled through a sob. "Com'ere." she motioned for me to move towards her, so I did. And before I knew it, she was wrapping me in her arms. It took me by surprise. I didn't know how to react at first. No one besides Ryan and occasionally Spencer has shown affection towards me in years. But eventually I was hugging her back, and letting everything out. I was crying and sobbing just as hard as she was. I couldn't control it. 

"I never stopped loving you." she mumbled. "You were right, it's unconditional love. I will always love you. I just hate who you've become. And sometimes it kills me inside, because I feel like it's all my fault. Sometimes I wonder how you would have turned out if I did it right." she cried. 

"It's not your fault. I was just born this way I guess. With a sick twisted mind. And there's nothing you could have done." I spoke emotionlessly through my tears. "This is me. And I can't change. At least not now. I'm sorry." 

She sniffed and nodded before pulling away and looking at me. She wiped away some of my tears and caressed my face. 

"You should probably go." she mumbled sweetly. "Before Ginger gets out of the shower." 

I nodded, and she pulled me forward and placed a kiss on my forehead, then wrapped me in her arms once more. 

"Take care out there." she said. I nodded, before exiting the bathroom, and crawling back out the window. 

Pretending nothing had happened at all.


	21. I am Right I swear I'm Right

Ryan’s POV

I woke up to the bedroom door closing shut. I blindly felt the spot on the bed next to me to find that Brendon wasn’t there.

It didn’t take that long to get a glass of water, did it?

I frowned, blinking a few times before sitting up. Brendon stared at me, hand still on the doorknob and eyes wide, as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Um. You can go back to sleep, Ryan, it’s just me,” he whispered, taking off his jacket and throwing it on top of the dresser. I arched an eyebrow, still half-asleep.

“Where’d you go?” I asked. He smiled.

“I told you, just to get water. Maybe you were still half-asleep and you don’t remember,” he laughed. “Just go to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“But you don’t get changed out of your pajamas to get water,” I pointed out. His smile vanished.

“I can if I want to?” It came out as more of a question. “Are you telling me what I can and can’t do now, Ryan? God, I just wanna get changed and go to bed, why do I have to be quizzed?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Brendon, I’m not an idiot,” I mumbled sleepily. “Did something happen?”

Brendon sighed, defeated, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Promise you won’t be pissed off?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged.

“Sure.”

Brendon smiled slightly.

“I went to go talk to my mom,” he stated simply. I stared at him, eyes wide; unsure of whether I should be furious or just confused as fuck. I said it wasn’t a good idea, didn’t I? And if he really wanted to see her that bad, he should have taken me with him, to stop him from doing anything he’d regret later. It’s not like he needed to sneak out or something, right?

“What? Why would you do that?!” I sputtered. He rolled his eyes.

“Because I wanted to talk to her,” he replied simply, shrugging. I scowled.

“Brendon, I told you that wasn’t a good idea, what happened? Did you kill her? You killed her, didn’t you? And now we have to fucking move again, we just got here, damn it!”

He narrowed his eyes.

“I didn’t kill her,” he replied, sounding annoyed. “But I’m really glad that that’s what you immediately think.”

I sighed in relief.

“Well Brendon, what am I supposed to think? Do you remember how upset and furious you were when she came here? You should have taken me with you! What happened?!” I asked hurriedly. He shrugged.

“We made amends. I don’t see why you care all that much. The second I mention my mom, all you have to say is bad things about her,” he spat, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. I gaped at him. Was he being serious?

“Brendon, all I’ve ever heard from you is bad things about her!” I snapped. “Of course I care, I’m just concerned, and with good reason to be! I mean, you’re a fucking murderer, and you went out to go see your mother, who alienated and disowned you, in the middle of the night! That’s why I said it wasn’t a good idea; I just didn’t want you to do something you’d regret!”

“Well I’m not a fucking kid, I don’t need people to tell me what to do!” he hissed, glaring at me in the dim light. “This isn’t even any of your business, she’s not your mom, and she’s never even talked to you before. Can’t you just leave it alone?”

I scowled, standing up and looking at him incredulously.

“I wasn’t telling you what to do, god damn it Brendon, for the last fucking time, I was just saying I didn’t think-“

“You always tell me what to do!” he snapped, and I realized we were no longer whispering. “All the fucking time! _Go wipe the handles off for fingerprints, even though everyone already knows who we are. Right now, Brendon. Brendon, I don’t like the wig, you wear it today. You were the one who decided that you wanted to be like me, you were my follower, so we stop to piss when I say we stop to piss! We’re getting up at half past the asscrack of dawn, because I said so, and also I’m sleeping on the right side of the bed because I like that side better, move to the left side. Oh, this is your childhood friend? Let’s lock him in the motherfucking trunk until I decide it’s okay to let him out. And we’re not allowed to trust him, by the way. Brendon, Jon isn’t allowed in the house and I’ll kill him if he is, I don’t care what you think or say because my opinion is the only one that really matters. You shouldn’t go try and make up with your mom, I know she destroyed your childhood and all and you want to go see if you can make amends, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, so. No._ God forbid you don’t get your way! It’s insane; I don’t even know why you’re so mad that I went to go see her!”

I just stared at him, gaping. I wasn’t that bossy, was I? I mean, he never acted like he minded. If he did, he could have just said something. I only assumed that if I wasn’t going to keep us from getting caught, no one would. Brendon’s reckless and sometimes doesn’t think things through, he knows that as well as I do. I just wanted to keep us from being put to death or something.

“God forbid I don’t get my fucking way?” I exploded, taking a few steps closer. He arched an eyebrow, telling me to go on. “Fuck you, Brendon! Fine! I won’t fucking try to keep us safe anymore! Sorry I’m so fucking bossy, and you’re too much of a pussy to fucking say something about it!”

“I’m not a pussy!” he growled. “I’m not-“

“No, shut the fuck up!”

“There you go again with fucking telling me what to do!” he shouted. I blinked at him.

“Are you for _real_?! Holy shit. I’m fucking leaving, you’re a fucking dick,” I hissed. I don’t need to deal with his shit this early. Spencer said there was more than one spare room, right? Yeah. Fuck this, fuck him.

“Good, asshole. Hold on, let me open the door for you, your majesty, I’m here to fucking serve,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he opened the door the rest of the way.

“I fucking hate you,” I snapped. He looked surprised, but his scowl returned almost immediately.

“Awesome! Nice to know! Have a good night, now, prick,” he hissed, and I groaned in frustration and walked into the hallway, slamming the door behind me.

It was probably a good thing no one lived too close to here, or they might have called the cops or something.

I frowned as I realized that I really didn’t know where the other spare rooms were, and it was dark, so I felt around for a doorknob.

Eventually, I found one, and opened it, flicking on the light on the wall inside.

I sighed.

Fucking closet.

“What happened?”

I turned around to see a tired-looking Spencer standing behind me, looking concerned. I shrugged.

“Brendon’s an asshole. Where’s the spare bedroom?” I asked. Spencer bit his lip.

“Well, actually, since me and my sister are adults now and my mom never really comes here, we use the other two for storage. You know, so we don’t have to pay for actual storage? My mom can be cheap,” he let out a light laugh. “Um, but, you can come sleep in my room if you want, I don’t really mind. I kind of like the couch better, because the temperature is nicer downstairs, and I don’t have to go as far to get something to drink if I get thirsty. Plus, I won’t hear it if there’s any more late night fighting.”

“I…oh.” I sighed heavily. All I wanted to do was fucking sleep. Damn the Smith family and their storage. Damn them all.

“Are you sure you don’t mind if I stay in yours?” I sighed. Spencer nodded.

“Yeah, not at all.” There was a pause. “Um, so. If you don’t mind me asking, how was he being an asshole? You two woke me up with your yelling and door slamming.”

I smiled apologetically.

“He went to go see his mom in the middle of the damn night,” I growled, frustrated. “And then we both just started yelling, I don't know. He's just an ass.”

Spencer nodded.

“Well, he’s always had a short temper, and it seems to me like you’re both overtired anyway,” he offered, shrugging. “You’ll make up.”

“I don’t wanna make up, he’s a dick,” I hissed. “He’s so stupid.”

Spencer laughed.

“Stupid? What are you, five?”

“Shut up.”

Spencer nodded, turning around and leading me to his bedroom, which was actually close to ours. Well, damn. Why didn’t I try that doorknob?

He leaned into the room and flicked on the light, and then turned to face me again.

“Just don’t go through my shit?” he asked, and I nodded. I heard footsteps from the room Brendon was in, and scowled.

“No problem.”

“Spencer, who are you talking to?” Brendon asked, and it was muffled by the door. “It better be Jon, because Ryan’s a-“

I don’t know why, I’m sure it was out of spite; but as the bedroom door cracked open, I surged forward and pressed my lips against Spencer’s. He didn’t respond; he just seemed frozen with shock, and honestly, I was sort of shocked too.

I pulled away and glanced at the doorway, where Brendon was standing, looking furious and upset.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he hollered. I smirked.

“I don’t have a problem. Goodnight, Spencer,” I said, a smug grin on my face as I walked into Spencer’s room and locked the bedroom door behind me.

I was sure I just did something particularly stupid, but at the moment, I didn’t really care all that much.


	22. I'm Sorry

So, it turned out I was actually pretty tired, and ended up falling into a deep dreamless sleep and sleeping in.

That is until I was rudely awoken by a pillow to the face.

I immediately sat up, eyed wide and startled.

I looked around and noticed Spencer standing there, glaring at me cross-armed.

"...The fuck?" I asked, breathing a little heavily.

"Get up." he said.

"What... Since when do you tell me what to do?" I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Ryan..." he said in an annoyed tone, shying and shaking his head. "You need to go talk to Brendon."

"Why?" I asked.

He looked at me incredulously. "He's a mess Ryan."

"What? What did I do?" I asked, denying the fact that I was actually a total asshole last night, and justifying it with the fact that he was one too, and he put us in danger by pulling a stunt like that.

Spencer just gave me a "What are you, stupid?" look.

There's no way he's that upset. The kiss didn't mean anything. And he didn't seem upset last night, just pissed off. Maybe he's just a mess because he's sorry and wants to apologize, so he sent Spencer in here to get me.

Well then.

I guess I can be the bigger man here and accept his apology.

I sighed and climbed out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"I'll go talk to him." I mumbled.

Spender nodded and left.

Then I slowly made my way across the hall.

I knocked on the door and in response he grumble "Come in." just loud enough for me to hear.

He sat on the bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, looking away. When he turned to look at me, he narrowed his eyes.

"I thought you were Spencer." he grumbled.

"Sorry to disappoint you." I said walking over and sitting next to him.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Um," I put my hand on his shoulder, in attempt to reconnect in a way, but he shrugged it off, and I ignored the fact that it stung. "Spencer said you were really upset." I said, not looking at him.

"No. Really? What's you're problem? You think you can just waltz in here after what you did and expect things to be all fine and dandy? Well news flash Ross, things don't work that way!" he snapped.

It took a minute for the anger to take over because I was mostly in shock at his sudden outburst. But it did. And I was pissed. Again.

"I was only being an asshole because you deserved it!" I snapped back.

"I deserved it? I fucking deserved it?! For what? Wanting to see my mom one last time?! Fuck you Ross!"

"You put us in danger!" I was almost yelling now.

He laughed humorlessly. "Bullshit!" he exclaimed. "You don't even care about that do you? I bet you're just pissed because I actually have someone else in the world that still loves me. It's not my fault that your mom fucking up and left you! It's not my fault my mother actually cares about me! You dont care about my safety. You just want someone to be as miserable as you." By the time he finished his rant he was yelling. I was frozen with anger. How could he think that? How could he say that?

I stood up and stormed over to the door.

"You fucking prick." I mumbled. "Well it's a good thing you have your fucking mommy who loves you because I sure as hell fucking don't!" I was screaming now.

"I'm the fucking prick?! You fucking kissed my best friend just to get back at me!" he was now standing up now, as well as pointing and screaming.

"Yeah? I did. And I'll do it again. Hell, maybe I'll even fuck him! Fuck you Brendon! I don't need you. Stay here and rot then for all I care! Because I fucking don't!" I shouted back before storming out of the room and slamming the door.

~*~

I found myself on the couch, watching TV (angrily.)

_The search continues for Brendon Urie and-_

I quickly shut it off and threw the remote across the room, mumbling "mother fucker" under my breath.

"Ryan, what the hell is your problem?" I looked up to see Spencer standing above me, arms crossed again, glaring at me.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"Why are you such an asshole?! Seriously, like I would understand if it was anyone but Brendon. Seriously Ross, he's your mother fucking boyfriend, and you made him cry." Spencer spat.

Suddenly my defenses fell and my eyes widened.

"What?" I asked.

"He's up there bawling his eyes out because you're an asshole." Spencer repeated.

"He's crying?" I asked, slightly dumbfounded.

"Yes you idiot!" Spencer nearly exclaimed.

Well fuck. I made him cry. Brendon Urie. Notorious serial killer. I made him cry. Ryan Ross: Biggest asshole on earth.

The only other person that had made him cry was his mother, when she said all that shit about him. His mother called him a worthless demon faggot, and disowned him and said she wanted to go back in time and not even have him.

And I just made him cry.

Well that doesn't make me much better then does it?

"Ryan, he thinks you hate him. That you don't love him. And he thinks you actually cheated on him. He thinks you don't care. He fucking believed everything you said, and now he's up there crying and refusing to come out of his room! He didn't deserve any of the things you said to him you asshole. You're the only one he has left in the world. Sure he has me, but I'm not you. Now you sit here and think about what you fucking did, and what you put that boy through. Then you get your sorry ass up there and apologize, do you hear me?"

I nodded, and Spencer walked away cursing under his breath.

I may not have a mom, but sometimes I think Spencer makes up for it.

Okay, so, and only because it's Brendon and I love him to death, (no pun intended) I can swallow my pride and admit I was wrong. I'll go up and apologize, take back everything I said, and assure him that I love him and nothing can change that. I'll be there for him, and I guess be more supportive. I'll tell him that I'll be less of an asshole, and less bossy.

Then everything will go back to normal.

I hope.

Shit.

I can't believe I did that.

It's only been about ten minutes and I'm already overwhelmed with guilt.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He actually thinks I cheated on him? Wasn't it obvious that I'm just an asshole and pulled a dick move?

I made my way upstairs and found myself in front of the door. I knocked softly, and when there was no response, I tried opening it. It was locked.

"Bren?" I said through the door. "Will you let me in?"

Still no answer.

I sighed. "Look Brendon, I'm really sorry okay? I didn't mean anything I said." Suddenly I heard shuffling, then the door opened a crack, revealing Brendon's face. His eyes were red and swollen. Yeah. He'd been crying.

Only, I was expecting some sort of "Of course it's okay Ryan. I love you. I forgive you." but instead I got a glare. He didn't say anything, so took the opportunity to speak.

"I'm really sorry Brendon. I didn't mean anything I said. I lov-"

"Don't." he cut me off, staring at the floor. "It's not okay. It's not o-fucking-Kay. You can't just treat me like that. I don't care who the fuck you are." he grumbled.

"I know Brendon, I'm sorry. I was mad and-"

"You had no reason to be. You had no reason to fucking be. And I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm tired of it Ryan. I'm tired of you thinking you can just fucking do whatever you want with out consequences. I'm fucking tired of you thinking you can just boss me around, and say whatever you want. You assume that if you apologize then ill come crawling back to you. No. I have more dignity then that. I'm not going to be treated like that. I'm done Ryan. You can fuck Spencer for all I care. Because I don't." he said, mimicking me.

"But-"

And the door slammed in my face.

I stood there, dumbfounded.

He's done?. What does that even mean? Just the other day we were laughing and happy and cuddling... What the fuck happened?

Sure I can be bossy sometimes, but it's not like he ever protested before. And... This is just a stupid fight. Were supposed to apologize and make up.

He's being absurd.

I feel like I should be angry.

But instead I feel... I don't know.

Did he just say he's done? He can be done. No.

I can't loose him. I can't.

Fuck. I knew this would happen.

I can't fucking loose him. I love him too much. No. He's not talking to me.

I tried banging on the door and shouting his name again but he didn't respond.

Fuck.


	23. Burning Alive From the Inside

Brendon's POV

What a fucking prick. A _prick_. Thinking he can just say whatever the fuck he wants, and-

“Brendon, come on, open the fucking door.”

I narrowed my eyes at the door.

“Fuck off!” I shouted. He stopped banging on it. I sighed. Fucking good, maybe he got the hint. It’s not like I didn’t make it clear that I don’t want him near me.

I quickly wiped off my cheeks. Why am I even fucking crying, anyway?

I started to think.

Maybe Ryan was right. We should have never started dating in the first place. I don’t know why I ever wanted to date someone like him. He killed his own fucking dad, it should have been obvious that he doesn’t really care about the feelings or well-being of anyone but himself. That he’s fucking incapable of loving anyone without hurting them in the end.

I should just give him up to the cops. Wouldn’t that be funny?

I sighed.

No. That would actually be more dickish than Ryan…uh. Being a dick.

And that’s pretty dickish.

Is dickish a word?

Either way, I wouldn’t ever be able to do that. I’d get caught, too, anyway.

He deserved it, though. People like him should be in jail. Where they can keep their fucking misery to themselves and refrain from hurting anyone else.

Uh. But I guess that kind of means I should be in jail too, huh?

Whatever.

What an asshole.

~•~

When I left the room that night to get something to eat, Spencer was on the couch watching some sitcom while Ryan stared blankly at the TV from the loveseat.

“Did you make food?” I asked, looking at Spencer. He shook his head.

“No, why?”

“Hungry,” I mumbled, walking into the kitchen and looking in the fridge.

Someone needed to go shopping. This was pathetic.

“Spencer, you need to get food,” I groaned, opening the freezer. “All that’s left is grape popsicles. And grape is the worst flavor.”

“I like grape,” Spencer laughed, shrugging. Ryan glanced at me questioningly.

“Brendon? I-“

“No,” I replied, taking the popsicle and walking back upstairs.

He didn’t follow me.

~•~

Two days had passed. Two miserable, stupid days; and I was in the bedroom, watching TV.

How I Met Your Mother, to be exact. Because even murderers know quality television when they see it.

…and also because I had nothing else to do, because Ryan apparently decided that I get to be trapped in the room while he gets to roam through the rest of the house.

I guess I could roam, if I wanted. But then I’d have to talk to him.

Which I honestly just don’t want to do.

Maybe I’m being a little overemotional.

But you know what? Fuck that. I don’t care. I can be as emotional and petty as I want.

“Alright, that’s it.”

I glanced up from the TV to see Spencer staring at me disapprovingly from the doorway.

“What?” I asked. He sighed loudly, walking in and closing the door behind him.

“You know exactly what. What’s going on with you and Ryan? It’s been fucking days. The tension is getting to me, and I have nothing to do with anything.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you just not-“

“Because.”

Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Well, what happened the other day, when he came up here to talk? He seemed really freaked out when he came back downstairs,” he offered. “Did he apologize?”

“I think he tried to, but I told him he was an asshole and I’m done with him,” I replied casually. What does that even mean, ‘done with him’?

Maybe he thinks I broke up with him or something.

…maybe I did.

Good.

Spencer frowned.

“You broke up with him?” he asked disbelievingly. I shrugged.

“I guess.”

He sighed, shaking his head.

“And you don’t even care?”

I glared at him.

“What are you saying, Spencer? That I should be all, ‘oh, it’s okay, because I love you even though you're continuously being a prick, and your only excuse is ‘I was angry’ even though you had no reason to be. That’s totally okay because our love is eternal so treat me however you want your majesty because that’s how relationships work’? Fuck that,” I hissed. “I refuse to be that person. I’m not going to let him think that it’s okay to treat me like that, because it isn’t. It’s not fair. He had no reason to explode on me.”

Spencer bit his lip, looking like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not.

“What?” I urged.

“I did hear you yelling too, and you didn’t sound too much like a victim,” he mumbled, shrugging. “I’m just saying that it’s a fight, and it’s not like people don’t fight. You don’t have to end everything just because Ryan was an asshole one time.”

I gaped at him for a good five seconds.

“One time? You know what this was all originally about, Spencer? Me going to go see my mom, and not asking his permission.” I scowled. “And then he managed to blow it this out of proportion.”

“You did too,” Spencer replied. “It’s not like I can’t hear every damn thing you say when you guys scream like that. He’s not the only one that blew it out of proportion. You brought his parents into it, Brendon. Do you even remember what you said? If that was me, I would have been pissed too. You were both just pissed off. Shit happens, you know? I’m not saying that no one was in the wrong, because yeah, he was being over controlling or whatever. But no one likes to be reminded of things they’ve spent years forgetting, so it's not really shocking that he got as pissed as he did.”

I frowned.

“Can you just…leave?” I asked. Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Fine, have it your way. But I hope you realize how much more complicated things are going to be, now.”

And then he was gone.

What exactly was that supposed to mean?

…I guess he was right, things were going to be more complicated if Ryan and I weren’t dating. I don’t see how we’re going to be able to successfully kill and manage to avoid the police if we’re at each other’s throats.

But then maybe he should have thought of that beforehand.

_You were an asshole too, Spencer was right._

But it was totally justified!

_Two wrongs don’t make a right. And is it really that hard to understand why he was so mad? You brought up his parents. Low blow._

So? That’s not even…I was angry!

_So was he. If he’s not allowed to justify what he said with the fact that he was angry, neither are you._

But…fuck it.

I frowned and sat my book down. Fucking brain.

I sighed.

Maybe that’s true. Maybe Spencer is right. We were both angry, and we were both in the wrong.

Maybe I am being too overemotional.

“God damn it,” I mumbled to myself, standing up and glancing at the door. “I guess I should fucking apologize, then.”


	24. But Trying to Regain Your Trust Was Harder Than it Seemed

I can’t eat.

I can’t sleep.

I can hardly think.

All I can do is sit here and sulk in front of the T.V.

The only person I ever really loved and cared about wants nothing to do with me. He wont talk to me. He wont even look at me.

And it’s all my fault.

I think I’m going crazy, (says the serial killer.)

For the first time in my life, I need someone. I need to feel his touch. His kiss. If not him... I need some sort of comfort. Some sort of touch I can pretend is him at the very least. Before Brendon, I went years without any sort of affection. But now that had it, lost it, and can’t have it, my body craves it. My mental being craves it.

He’s making me insane.

I feel at war with myself as well, because I am Ryan Ross. I’m a notorious serial killer, and yet my emotions seem to think I’m some dumb, blind, stupid, love struck teenager.

If I wasn’t such a wreck, I’d be disturbed.

At some point Spencer sat down next to me.

“I talked to him.” Spencer said. “He’s still pretty upset.”

Figures.

I sniffed and nodded.

I looked up at Spencer, and realized something.

I realized that I was craving comfort, craving touch.

And it could have been the slight insanity talking, but it all made sense in my head.

Everything I was about to do that is.

I needed someone. Spencer was someone.

I leaned forward, grabbing his face and pressed my lips to his. He froze in shock, before attempting to push me away.

_“Jesus mother fucking Christ.”_

I broke away suddenly at the words that didn’t come from either me or Spencer, and my eyes snapped to the doorway, where a pissed, and still upset looking Brendon Urie stood.

My eyes widened and Spencer was still frozen.

He mumbled something angry and unintelligible under his breath before storming back up the stairs.

_Jesus mother fucking Christ is right._

If I thought things were doomed before, well, now he thinks... Well I’m not sure. But it sure as hell isn’t good.

I jumped up onto my feet and ran after him up the stairs. By the time I reached the top, the bedroom door had already slammed shut.

I ran to it anyway and began banging on the door desperately.

“Brendon!” I shouted. “Brendon please let me explain!”

Explain what? I’m fucked.

“I don’t want to hear any of your god damn excuses!” He shouted back from the other side of the door. I swear I heard his voice crack a few times.

“Brendon please let me in!”

The door opened a crack, revealing his tear streaked face.

“Why? So you can give me some lame excuses and try and patch things up so we can go back to the most fucked up dysfunctional relationship that ever existed? You want to kiss and make up so that you can go back to bossing me around and not giving a fuck about my feelings? You want to-”

He was cut off when I pushed the door with all my strength, forcing my way into the room.

I closed the door behind me and tried to walk towards him, but the glare he gave me slowed me a little. His eyes were not only harsh and spiteful, but hurt and confused. The room was dark, and the only light coming in was from the unusually bright full moon hanging outside the window. It gave everything a bluish tint, including the visible parts of Brendon’s face. It was just light enough for me to see and read his face; just enough to see the damage I’ve caused.

“Brendon-”

“Get out.” He ordered.

“But I-”

“Get. The Fuck. Out.” He nearly growled.

I walked closer to him, shaking my head.

“Brendon... I can’t. You don’t understand how fucking messed up I am with out you-”

“Will you stop sounding like a mother fucking soap opera, and get the fuck out of my room?” he spat angrily. “I don’t care.”

“No!” I shouted loudly, stomping my foot, and getting his attention. “No, I won’t fucking leave, and I know that you really do care. I’m not going anywhere until I tell you that I love you and that I’m sorry I’m such a fucking asshole. Brendon, you are all I have left. You’re the only thing I care about. These last few days of you not talking to me have driven me to near insanity. I need you. I’m sorry for everything. And I’ll do anything you ask if you just please take me back.” I pleaded. There was a long silence, I could feel the tears prickling at my eyes. I tried to push them back.

“The funny thing is, that speech would have worked about two hours ago.” He muttered grimly. “And I was all ready to waltz down there and admit my mistakes and fix it all, but then I walked in on you fucking Spencer and realized there was no point.”

“I wasn’t fucking Spencer!” I demanded, appalled. “What you saw... that was just me taking advantage of him because I was crazy. I told you, I was going crazy at the thought of losing you. I just needed... some sort of comfort. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t. It just happened. You have to believe me, I would never cheat on you-”

“Oh really? Because this is twice now.” He spat. “I know you’re a mother fucking murderer, and that we shouldn’t have a normal relationship, but you can’t go around kissing other people like that. Especially Spencer. Even if it didn’t mean anything, you still did it. You did it for no reason other then to hurt me. And if you just want to hurt me then I don’t want to love you.” he explained. The tears began to pour down my face at his words.

“Brendon, do you hear yourself? Okay, the first time was stupid. I was mad, you were mad. I was being stupid and immature. And the second time, I had no intention of hurting you, Brendon I love you, and I wish I could take everything back.” I was crying, stupidly. My voice was cracking and breaking. The last time I cried was the night I killed my fucking father. This is stupid. I shouldn't be crying. His expression didn’t change.

“I’m sorry Ryan, but I can’t do this anymore.” he mumbled.

Forgetting all resistance I had intended apply, I sank to my knees, groveling at the words. “Brendon please.” I pleaded through a sob. “B-Brendon, y-you’re all I have. I’m all you have. I can’t live without you. I really can’t. Please. You have to take me back. I- I love you so fucking much. And you have no idea how fucking sorry I am. How much I regret everything. P-Please, Brendon. Please, I need you. Please. I’m desperate.” I was begging, pleading, sobbing and desperate. If this was anyone else, under any other circumstances, I would probably be disgusted and amused at the words and sad desperation being portrayed. In fact I’d probably kill both of them. I’m supposedly a heartless murderer. This isn’t me. Or at least it shouldn’t be. What has this boy, this man, done to me? He’s changed me, or changed part of me at least, and I don’t know if it’s for the better. I don’t even know what the better is at this point, nor do I care. I just want him. More than anything. I can’t live without him. I can’t. I don’t care what it takes, I wont live with out him god damn it. I had only hoped he felt the same.

“Ryan stop it.” He said. “Get up.”

“Please, Brendon, please take me back. I can’t live without you.” I choked through a sob.

...The fuck...? Now I'm sobbing?

Suddenly I felt him grab a hold of my arm and yank me up off the ground.

“Ryan, what are you doing? This isn’t you at all. What the fuck has gotten into you?” He asked sounding genuinely confused.

“You have.” I answered at the risk of sounding cheesy and cliche. “I promise I won’t ever hurt you or mistreat you again.” I said looking into his eyes the best I could. “I love you. I can’t live without you. I thought you felt the same.”

He didn’t respond. He only stared at me. The war, confusion, indecision, and sorrow showing themselves in his eyes.

His grip was still tight on my arm.

“Brendon, please. You said you loved me.” I nearly whispered.

More tears ran down his face.

Finally he closed his eyes, breaking the gaze.

“I do.” he whispered. “But I don’t want to get hurt again.” he spoke a little louder, but just as broken.

“I promise I wont ever hurt you ever again.” I said, bringing my hand up to caress his face.

His gaze met mine again, and he surged forward, pressing our lips together. I kissed back desperately, grabbing a hold of his face, noticing the wetness of it from all the tears.

“I love you.” I whispered once he pulled away.

“I love you too, but you can’t... I can’t...”

“Yes we can. Brendon, you’re just being stubborn. I won’t hurt you again. I promise. Now kiss me, please kiss me again.” I whispered again, pulling him closer. He looked into my eyes with a reluctant, and somewhat desperate look in his eye.

He then pulled me forward even closer and reattached our lips, more aggressive this time. I kissed back desperately. We ended up falling backwards, myself on top of him, onto the bed. I reached and touched for every inch of him, wishing I could touch everywhere at once. God, I missed this so fucking much. His hands seemed to do the same as mine. Then my shirt suddenly disappeared, and the soft skin of his hands traced along the planes of my chest and my back, suddenly settling on my hips.

I pulled off his shirt, planting kisses along his jaw, then down his neck and shoulder. When I pulled back to take in his face, his gaze was fixed on mine, a combination of desperation and heartbreak.

It nearly killed me to see it, so I leaned down and pressed my lips to his once more, passionate and just as desperate, hoping that all my regret and remorse was made apparent.

He kissed back, bringing his hands up to cup my face.

"I'm sorry too." He whispered into the kiss.

I pulled away. "You have no reason to be." I stated, my expression serious.

"I was a dick too. We both were. We're both at fault." He mumbled, running his thumb across my cheek. I bent down to kiss him again, and he kissed back, this time rolling over, switching positions, him being on top.

He continued to kiss me, his hand moving down rub me outside of my jeans. I kissed him back, my hands moving to his face.

He undid the button on my pants, pushing them down to my knees.

"I love you." he whispered.

"I love you too." I whispered back.

He kissed me once more, before wrapping his hand around my cock and working it into an erection.

"I missed you too you know." Brendon mumbled. "We're both such stubborn bastards."

I forced a laugh through the deep breaths. I was a little to preoccupied with Brendon's hand to think up a proper response.

I reached for the button on his pants, undoing it, and pushing them down as far as I could.

Brendon sat up, removing them completely, before repositioning himself so that he was straddling my hips. He reattached his lips to mine once more, while reaching for the drawer of the side table where he pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom.

He handed me the lube while he opened the package --With his teeth nonetheless. He rolled it onto my cock as I squirted a small amount of lubricant onto my hand.

Once he finished, I sat up, and he gave me one more kiss before moving onto his hands and knees.

I moved behind him, coating my fingers in lubricant before sliding one into his entrance, moving it in and out, he let out a slight whimper. I added another finger, repositioning my fingers at a slight angle. When I did so, he let out a breathy moan.

"F-Faster." He begged.

I obeyed, moving my hand at a quicker pace and sliding in another finger, causing his to moan once more.

"Oh fuck. R-Ryan. I w-want you. n-now." He said, followed by another moan.

I nodded, though he couldn't see me, and pulled my hand out, applying the rest of the lube to my cock. I grabbed his hips and pushed in slowly. He made hissing sounds in response.

"God," I breathed. "You're so fucking tight." It came out as more of a grumble.

Within three tries I managed to hit his prostate, dead on. He let out an extremely loud, slutty moan.

Guess we won't have to explain to Spencer that we made up.

I began moving faster and my breathing picked up.

"Oh god, Brendon." I moaned.

He was panting.

I reached down, attempting to stroke his cock in rhythm with my thrusts, but it quickly became sloppy.

"R-Ryan," he moaned again, loudly.

"Keep saying my name like that and I'll come quicker then you'd hoped." I stated, thrusting faster.

"God, Ryan, do you realize--" he was cut off by another, quiter moan. "Do you realize that this is the first time we've done this?" He asked, it being very breathy. "I d-didn't realize you were so g-good in bed."

I laughed slightly, mostly forced.

"Oh god." He moaned again through his pants.

"I'm- I'm gonna come." I breathed. I'm not sure he heard me, because he was being very vocal.

I began moving faster, and coming while moaning his name.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck." He panted.

"Jesus christ." I said as I finished, out of breath.

I pulled out slowly, and let out a sigh. Without saying another word, I flipped him over onto his back, and attached my lips to his before kissing down his jaw line, and his neck, then down his chest and belly. Then without much warning, I took the length of his cock in my mouth, slightly proud of myself for not gagging.

"Oh god," he moaned throwing his head back.

I bobbed my head up and down, causing a string of profanities to fall from his mouth.

Not much time had passed before he was coming,--without warning--it shooting down my throat.

I swallowed, cleared my throat, then sat up.

Brendon exhaled. "Wow. Sorry. You're so fucking good at that though."

I smiled and climbed up on top of him, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"It's okay. I was an asshole to you. You can come in my mouth whenever you want."

Brendon laughed. "Quite the romantic we are."

I smiled and kissed him again.

"I'm sleepy, I can sleep in here tonight right?" I asked. He smiled.

"I suppose I'd rather have you in here then with Spencer." He teased. I however, didn't find it funny.

"Brendon-"

"I'm kidding, come here." He said, pulling me down in his arms. "I love you."

"I love you too. And for the record, I never cried."

Brendon laughed.

"Eye-eye captain."


End file.
